


Harbor

by Tangerine



Series: Testing the Waters [2]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cruise Ships, Embedded Images, Food, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Marvel Bang 2020, Mission Fic, NSFW Art, Nipple Piercings, Nude Beach, Original Character(s), Pining, Romance, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 61,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27575500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/pseuds/Tangerine
Summary: Kitty Pryde tasks Iceman with investigating a possible sea monster sighting on his first gay cruise. But when he unexpectedly finds himself single with a room meant for two, Angel steps up to fill the void and, even more importantly, split the cost. Determined to enjoy his trip, Bobby spends his time with Warren solving the mystery, enjoying his vacation and doing something that is most certainlynotflirting, despite what Rictor and Shatterstar (who are also on board and celebrating a milestone) say.A sequel to Anchor.Written for the 2020 Marvel Big Bang.
Relationships: Bobby Drake & Julio Richter, Bobby Drake/Warren Worthington III, Julio Richter/Shatterstar
Series: Testing the Waters [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997719
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34
Collections: Marvel Big Bang 2020





	1. The Mission

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Harbor- Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27368176) by [BlitheFool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlitheFool/pseuds/BlitheFool). 



> Art is by the incredible [blithefool](https://blithefool.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much for the [four beautiful illustrations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27368176) of Bobby, Warren, Julio and Shatterstar enjoying their vacation! 
> 
> Note: the art is embedded in the story. The first one is safe for work, but the other three are decidedly not. 
> 
> Many thanks to Placidia for the beta, who stopped Bobby from doing several impossible things. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.
> 
> This series timeline diverges after _New Mutants: Dead Souls_ #6 and _Extermination_ (2018) #1 but before _Shatterstar_ (2018) #1.
> 
> There is a coda to this story called [Haven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27575570) that covers the same time period that Chapter 7 does.
> 
> See the end notes for further explanations of the Alcohol tag, a minor content warning involving kissing that happened in the comics and the embedded images.

Bobby found the letter on the kitchen table, next to a half-eaten container of croissants. With a yawn, he sat down to read it, imagining something teasing and perhaps a little sexy, before slowly realizing with each new word that he was being dumped. Swallowing the hard lump of half-chewed croissant stuck in his throat, he flipping the letter over and desperately searched for the words _lol just joking_. 

He didn't find them. 

Bobby put the letter down.

"Oh, fuck me," he said to the depressing emptiness of his kitchen. 

He'd been down this road before. He'd need caffeine to get through the shit-storm that was brewing.

Lurching over to the counter, Bobby put a pot of coffee on. He stared down at his feet and crossed his arms. It was too damn early in the day to be dumped. His ex would have had to get up in the middle of the night in order to sneak out. Couldn't he have just dumped Bobby over text like any normal person? 

" _Fuck_ ," Bobby said again with feeling. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

While the coffee brewed, Bobby contemplated just how unprofessional it would be to show up at a meeting drunk. On one hand, it would serve Kitty right for scheduling a meeting on a Monday, when Bobby's brain cells were still enjoying their weekend. On the other hand, getting wasted before eight am was impressive even for him. Still, he was tempted. Maybe just a splash of rum to take the edge off.

Bobby sighed. "Fuck," he said. 

Once the coffee was ready, Bobby poured himself a cup. Without alcohol and, after taking a sniff of the milk in the fridge, without whatever rotten monstrosity had grown in that carton. He gagged as he poured it down the sink. It looked like yogurt and smelled like death. He should have just chucked it into the garbage, but he couldn't _not_ recycle something, even when he suspected it might contain a biohazard.

Feeling thoroughly humbled, Bobby sat back down at the table. 

As he sipped his coffee, his eyes scanned the letter again. 

The cliched _it's not you, it's me_ stood out, especially paired with the later _things just got totally intense super fast dude,_ which really made it sound like it actually _was_ Bobby who was the problem. The real dagger to the gut, though, was the chipper sign off. _Have fun on the cruise!_ Which, okay, fine, decent sentiment and all, but where was the wad of cash reimbursing Bobby for his share of the nonrefundable tickets that Bobby had paid for up front?

"I'm such a loser," Bobby said to the second croissant right before he stuffed it into his mouth. 

Bobby laid his head on the table, chewing sadly, as he watched the clock on the stove slowly tick towards seven-thirty. Eventually, he sat up with a sigh and wandered off to take a shower. He grabbed the third and final croissant on his way, letting carbs soothe his wounded soul as he ate away the pain.

* * *

By the time he arrived at Kitty's office, he was feeling a little better. Not much – seriously, just thinking about how much money he was out was giving him the sweats, and he was the fucking _Iceman_ – but less like he was doomed to be alone forever and more like he just had really terrible taste in men.

When he ducked his head into her office, Kitty was on the phone. She waved him over to a chair. 

Bobby closed his eyes, tilting his head back. What lunatic called someone at this hour on a Monday morning? It was too early. Bobby wanted a do-over. Last night had been so pleasant, some decently intense sex followed by some hardcore snuggling afterwards. At least he'd been left with the croissants. 

Kitty ended her phone call then got up and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Want one?" she asked.

"Just tip the pot straight into my mouth," Bobby replied. "It'll only hurt for a second, I swear."

Kitty sat back down at her desk, sliding a mug in his general direction. It required a monumental effort, but Bobby managed to sit up, reaching for it pitifully. She sighed. "So about your vacation…"

"Oh, yeah, you can go ahead and cancel that. I just got dumped, so I'm going to spend all afternoon futilely trying to get a refund even though I read the fine print and understood that I sold my soul. And then, once I realize I'm never seeing a cent of that money again, I'm going to cry myself to sleep."

"No, you won't," Kitty replied. "You're going on that cruise."

"My boyfriend broke up with me," Bobby repeated in case Kitty hadn't heard him the first time.

"You're still going," Kitty said. "That was Marco on the phone. There's an issue with the ship."

Bobby tipped his head slightly. "Am I supposed to know who that is?"

"Old college friend. Mutant. Gay. Really nice guy. He's willing to comp the cost of your room."

"Okay, I'm listening," Bobby said, thinking of his credit card balance. "Though Rictor and Shatterstar are going on this thing, too, so whatever this issue" – Bobby made quotation marks with his fingers – "is, it could probably be solved by one of them if this is some sort of need-a-gay-mutant thing."

"Do you know what Rictor's powers are?"

"Uh, yeah. I was there when he almost sent San Francisco into the Pacific Ocean. I was thinking more about his murder husband. That guy is intense. And uncomfortably good-looking," Bobby added, shaking his head in dismay. Kitty looked about ready to phase him into the floor, but Bobby pressed valiantly on. "Or, you know, there's always Jean-Paul and Kyle. Canadians love warm vacations."

Kitty pinched the bridge of her nose. She sighed again. "Firstly, my next meeting is telling them that I'm about to ruin their first anniversary vacation with another vague maybe-mission. Secondly, Marco is asking for four super-powered people, so that still doesn't solve my problem. And thirdly, you're actually pretty useful around large bodies of water. Although, so was that boyfriend of yours…"

"Ex," Bobby muttered. "He dumped me via hand-written note if you can believe it."

"My condolences," Kitty said, clearly not meaning it. "I just need you to keep your eyes open, and if you see an issue, step in and solve it. Do what you can to keep everybody safe. And maintain a low profile, don't freak anybody out. It's only every been spotted at night, during very specific hours, and it hasn't been aggressive. So during the day, have fun, relax, and come back to us nice and refreshed."

"Oh, is that all? I'm sorry my feelings are too much for you."

"You're so dramatic."

Bobby opened his mouth to point out that she hadn't exactly been in the best of moods after that whole thing with Peter, but he wisely kept his trap shut. Even he could recognize the situations were different. He supposed that was the one saving grace here: he hadn't planned on proposing to his ex or anything. 

"Can't we just, like, do a scan and see what's out there?"

"The Caribbean is a large place. We don't even know what we're looking for. But, yes, there have been scans, and nothing has come back. I even had Jean scan the water with Cerebra, in case we're looking at some sort of Krakoan-type thing. Inconclusive. So we need bodies on-site," she said very carefully. 

She was using what he thought of as her _Bobby is an idiot_ voice. She'd used it a lot after they'd broken up. He changed tactics. "Has anyone brought up the fact that maybe this particular cruise is cursed?"

"I'm sure they've had several meetings on the topic," Kitty said. "Are you agreeing to go or not?"

"Okay, fine," Bobby said, giving in. "I reserve the right to change my mind, but I'm in."

"Great. Marco will cover half your room…"

" _Half_?!"

Kitty continued on unfazed, a testament to her ability to put up with him. "Or all of it if you can find someone else to go with you. I can't keep track of who you're pretending you never hooked up with."

"I booked one of the honeymoon suites," Bobby said helplessly. "There's only one bed."

"Then it better be somebody you like," Kitty replied. "I'll email you the details about the mission."

"Fine," Bobby said, giving in, and Kitty nodded, dismissing him with a brief wave of her hand. It could have been worse, he told himself as he left. How, he wasn't quite sure, but knowing how things usually went for him, he was sure some unwanted complication would pop up, just when he needed it the least.

* * *

On his way home, Bobby caught sight of Rictor and Shatterstar in the distance. He high-tailed it out of there before either of them noticed him. In his head, he was running through a list of people who might be willing to help him out. It was a depressingly short list. All the out mutants were either too young to drink and therefore way too young to consider, or already attached, or just entirely out of the question.

He had to stop hooking up with teammates at celebratory events. It was becoming a bad habit. Things were inevitably weird as fuck afterwards, and there were usually uncomfortable emotions involved, and ugh, seriously, why could he not think of anyone? What was supposed to be an awesome vacation was quickly turning into his own personal nightmare: an expensive mistake undertaken entirely alone. 

It wasn't that he was nervous about the whole thing, though he was in ways he couldn't really explain. And being single opened up a lot of possibilities that hadn't been there before, like ogling hot guys in skimpy bathing suits and the possibility of no-strings-attached sex with them. Except he was terrible at that. The only guy it had ever sort of worked with was Simon, and that was because somehow Simon was even worse at keeping things chill than Bobby was. He liked the guy, but he didn't _like_ like him. 

His phone pinged. He unlocked it to find the email from Kitty. It had seventeen attachments. 

_This just keeps getting worse and worse_ , Bobby thought, locking it and sliding it into his back pocket.

Maybe he could ask Hank, except things were weird as shit with him. It felt like their lives had taken two completely different paths. Morally at least. It didn't feel like they were on the same page anymore, which was absolutely wild, but there it was all the same. Plus, he just didn't think Hank would go for it.

But what was the point of having a best friend if they didn't save your ass from crappy life decisions?

"Yeah, no," Bobby said, cutting that line of thought off abruptly. Hank had his own shit to work through. It was natural for people to grow apart as they aged. Bobby certainly wasn't the same guy he'd been when he joined the X-Men, so he could hardly fault Hank for changing so much either. 

Getting older kinda sucked, he decided, kicking at an empty soda can on the ground. He missed the carefree days of yore when the highlight of his day was successfully freezing someone's shorts before they noticed. Usually Warren, who had been flighty enough back then that pranking him was almost mean. Not that that had ever stopped Bobby, but it was less fun when there wasn't any challenge. 

Bobby got ten steps away from the soda can before going back and picking it up. Recycling, his weakness. With no recycling bin within view, he stuffed it uncomfortably into his front pocket.

He didn't make the obvious joke. He wasn't in the mood, and no one was around to hear it anyway.

* * *

Bobby spent the next day dodging texts from Kitty and Rictor, both of whom were annoying him. 

He split his time between teaching, packing up anything in the apartment that reminded him of his breakup and lying on the couch, feeling sorry for himself. It wasn't as if he'd even _loved_ the guy. It was more the idea of him. Of having someone to come home to, to laugh with and to share a bed with. Bobby fucking _loved_ snuggling, and you didn't always get that with random hookups. 

He spent some time at his desk going through the email Kitty had sent. Most of the attachments were grainy cell phone photos, taken at night. He didn't even know what the fuck he was looking at. Increasing the brightness on his monitor, he tried to make sense of the images, but they all just looked like shadowy blurs. There was also a video, which was clearly filmed by someone extremely drunk. 

Bobby's stomach churned uneasily as he struggled to watch it. He'd never been good with shaky cam movies, even when professionals were involved. Sipping at his glass of water, trying to reduce the nausea, he pushed through his discomfort. The video started like a porno, two guys all up in each other's space, grinding against one another. Their kisses were all sloppy tongues and breathy moans. 

"Hey," one of them said suddenly. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" the other guy asked, biting at his companion's lips. 

"I think there's something down there," the first guy said. 

What followed was the type of video Bobby expected to see on YouTube when someone was claiming that smudge of movement in the background was a Yeti. If he squinted, maybe there was something there, or maybe it was just a tree or a bear or whatever else you expected to find in a forest at night. 

Against his better judgment, he texted Rictor. _Have you looked at this stuff Kitty sent?_

Rictor quickly texted back. _Oh, now you're talking to me?_ Which was basically what Bobby expected from him. As he prepared to respond just as snarkily, another text came through. _Star swears he can see something, but I can't tell if he's bullshitting me or not._ Quickly followed by a third. _But idk maybe?_

 _That video tho_ , Bobby typed back. 

_Ikr_ , Rictor replied. 

Bobby was happy to just leave it at that, but then Rictor sent another text. 

_Still trying to chicken out of the cruise?_

_I got dumped,_ Bobby texted back with stabby little jabs of his thumb. If anybody knew about getting dumped, it was Rictor, who had been broken up with by Shatterstar more times than Bobby could count. Moot point now, sure, but it didn't change the past. _Tickets were nonrefundable. Fucker just left._

_So?_

_Not chicken_ , Bobby typed out angrily, not the least bit surprised when the only response was a row of chicken emojis. One of the constants in his life was Rictor being a figurative pain in his ass. Annoyed, he chucked his phone onto the couch and wandered off to find something harder than water to drink.

* * *

On Wednesday, Bobby met Warren for lunch. 

It had used to be the five of them partaking in this monthly tradition, but over the years, with various deaths and whatnot, their numbers had slowly dwindled. Hank had missed the last few lunches, and Jean hadn't started coming again yet, and Scott, well... Scott was still dead. So for the time being, it was just him and Warren. They hadn't stopped for whatever reason. He secretly hoped they never would. 

Warren was already there waiting for him, thumbing through his phone with a frown.

"Hey," Bobby said, sitting down. A menu and a glass of water immediately appeared in front of him.

"Hi, sorry, work stuff," Warren replied, giving his phone one last scowl before tucking it into the inner pocket of his coat. He sat back in his chair, his wings fanning out behind him. By Warren's standards, he was dressed down – a leather jacket with a v-necked white shirt and, from what Bobby could tell, a pair of blue jeans. He looked ridiculously handsome, like he'd just stepped off the cover of a magazine. 

"So I need to tell you upfront that I just got dumped and I have, like, zero sense of humour about it."

Warren winced. "Ow. Right before your vacation?"

"I know, right? And I can't get out of it because, like, possible sea monster sighting."

Warren crooked one perfect blond eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Maybe? I don't know. Here, tell me what you think," Bobby said, pulling his phone out and bringing up one of the photos. He shoved it at Warren, who reached over the table to take it. While Warren was squinting at the image, Bobby picked up the menu and started flipping through the options. Of course the entire thing was in French. Typical snooty Worthington tastes. "Hey, any recommendations?"

"It's all good," Warren replied absently, dragging his finger over the screen of Bobby's phone. 

"I just want a regular part of the cow, medium-rare, on one of those fancy pretzel buns."

"I'll order for you," Warren said, handing Bobby's phone back. "I can't tell what that is. If anything."

"Yeah," Bobby said, slouching in his seat. The server came over with some wine, and Bobby watched through narrowed eyes as Warren made a production of swirling the liquid around in his glass before taking a measured sip. He nodded, and the server filled up both glasses. He mercifully left the bottle.

"Are you okay?" Warren asked. "Other than, you know, being dumped a week before your vacation."

"It wasn't even a week," Bobby replied, taking the glass of wine Warren pushed at him. "Five days. And Kitty isn't letting me not go because evidently there's some sort of sea monster in the Caribbean, and everyone seems perfectly fine with, like, not cancelling the whole thing. Fucking capitalism, man."

"Cheers to that, I guess," Warren said, offering his glass, and Bobby lifted his own, touching the rims together. "So what are you going to do? Why is it so important that you specifically go on this thing?"

"Because I spent, like, a significant chunk of my savings on a dream vacation with a guy who wrote me a fucking Dear John letter. We were supposed to split the cost, but he ghosted before he ever paid me a cent. At least I can get some of it back if I go. And hey, a ship full of hot guys. Could be worse, right?"

"I thought Rictor and Shatterstar were going with you."

Bobby sighed. "Turns out Rictor is useless on water. Shatterstar just stabs things, I guess."

"Fair enough," Warren said.

Bobby opened his mouth to respond, but then the server returned, and Warren quickly ordered in French, saying something that had the man laughing with delight. Bobby watched with sympathy as the server blossomed under the power of Warren's undivided attention, falling a little bit in love with him. 

Warren made it too easy sometimes. Bobby would know. 

"Sorry," Warren said, once the guy left. "You were saying?" 

"Nothing important," Bobby replied. "I'm still on the hook for, like, over half of what I paid, though. I guess I shouldn't have splurged on the fancy room. But I, you know, liked him. I thought it'd work out."

Warren looked at him with an expression that could only be called pity. "I'm sorry it didn't work out with...." Warren stopped and pursed his lips together. "Wow, I am completely blanking on his name."

"That's fine. He's dead to me anyway," he assured him. Bobby had, in his opinion, done a very good job of avoiding any mention of him by name. It was a small point of pride in what had been a very shitty string of days. "Kitty said I could probably get the whole thing covered if I could find someone to take his place, but it turns out of my bad habit of sleeping with teammates has basically ruled out everyone."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"It's a gay cruise, dude," Bobby said, his stomach doing a weird flutter as Warren's words registered.

"I'm aware of what it is," Warren replied. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Bobby had known Warren long enough to know he wasn't the type of guy who offered to do something if he didn't completely intend on following through. In business, this had made him a lot of money on top of the family fortune he had inherited. Warren had always had Bobby's back when he needed him. 

But this felt different for some reason. Bobby couldn't place his finger on why. It just did.

"People will think you're gay," Bobby said quietly, keeping his voice low. 

"It's been a long time since I've cared about the opinions of strangers."

"We're kinda supposed to keep a low profile. You'll probably have to act like you're into guys."

"Not a problem," Warren said, tipping his wine glass so the liquid sloshed around up the sides. He had barely drunk any of it, Bobby noticed. He never did. More often than not, Warren had to call Bobby an Uber and sent him home drunk. Bobby had liked these lunches more when they had split the bottle. 

"And we'll probably have to share a bed. I booked one of the honeymoon suites," Bobby warned. 

"Jesus, Bobby, you knew the guy for _five_ months." 

"Fuck, I know. Don't judge me. He had a really great smile, and he was dynamite in bed. I can't resist either of those things." Bobby glanced down at his glass of wine, noting absently that it was empty. "If you want to come, I would appreciate it. I'm sorry in advance about the bed. I'm clearly a giant loser."

"Well, not a _giant_ one," Warren said, smiling blandly when Bobby looked up to glare at him.

* * *

That night, Bobby sent Warren all of the information he had gathered about the cruise. He'd spent the afternoon getting the name on the reservation changed, which required talking to six different people. He still wasn't excited, not like he had been, but at least he had his savings back to an acceptable level.

He tried to pump himself up by poking around the website again. He knew it was mostly propaganda, but sea monster notwithstanding, it looked like an awesome time. Lots of swimming, dancing, drinking in a sea of gorgeous guys down to party and have a good time. And it'd been ages since he'd had an actual vacation. Literal years. He'd done spring break during his stint at UCLA, but nothing after that. 

So he was long overdue. He knew it. His vacation balance knew it. He'd earned this trip. 

Over the years, he'd put all of himself into the X-Men, and now he was slowly taking those parts back.

He scrolled idly through the pictures, admiring all the guys in their bathing suits. He dropped his other hand to his crotch, massaging his cock through his sweatpants as it plumped up under his palm. Stuffed in the corner of the room was all the shit he'd bought for the trip, including a week's worth of skimpy swimsuits. He was planning on wearing each and every one of them, showing off every asset he had. 

Tilting his head back, Bobby closed his eyes, focussing on the pressure of his hand. What Bobby hadn't considered when buying all those suits was that Warren would be on the trip, too. He'd been to enough X-Men pool parties over the years to know that Warren liked to get as close to naked as possible.

That nagging thought from earlier, that Bobby hadn't quite been able to place, fully formed in his head.

Warren. Swimsuit. Warren being hot in a swimsuit. Bobby watching Warren being hot in a swimsuit.

Bobby being _hard_ watching Warren being hot in a swimsuit. 

Momentarily torn between beating one out and feeling ashamed of himself, Bobby went with the former. He'd never been able to think clearly with a hard-on, and it wasn't like Warren didn't know Bobby found him hot. That had remained a secret for exactly as long as it took him to admit it to li'l Bobby, who for some unknown reason told li'l Warren, who, even more inexplicably, told his Warren.

Time travel remained the worst. 

Bobby got up, kicking off his clothes as he moved to his bedroom. His sheets were freshly washed, crisp and neutral smelling, and he plopped down on his back. He reached for a squirt of lube, getting his hand all nice and slick before curling it around his semi-hard dick. Closing his eyes, Bobby stroked himself leisurely, thinking about nothing in particular, just enjoying the glide of his palm over his shaft.

After a while, his fantasy shifted. He thought about the cruise and all the hot guys and maybe picking up one of them. Going back to the guy's room, peeling the swimsuit down his legs, hard cock bobbing up, tip slick with pre-come against Bobby's lips. He'd suck the guy for a bit, getting him all nice and ready, then he'd get up and crawl onto the guy's bed, back arched and cheeks spread, ready for him.

Bobby's hand sped up, fingers tight around his cock. His ass throbbed for something in it, something hard and hot, and he imagined the head of the guy's dick pushing past his tight rim and sliding in deep. Bobby wouldn't need more than a few moments to get used to it before he'd be begged to be fucked and fucked _hard_. 

Right on the edge, panting, Bobby turned onto his stomach and reached blindly under his bed, looking for his box of toys. He grabbed the first one he found, a medium-sized dildo that curved sharply. Slicking it up, he spread his legs and exhaled, pushing out with his ass as he pressed the toy in. It wasn't big enough to need a lot of prep, and he bottomed out quickly, the flared base flush against him.

He squirmed experimentally, and his dick rubbed against the sheets, leaving glossy smears of fluid. With one hand, he started to fuck himself as the other moved back to his cock. Each stroke of the dildo hit his prostate, sending streaks of pleasure through his body. He forced his thoughts back to his make-believe guy, imagining it was his cock fucking him, hand fisted in his hair and holding his head down. 

Imagined for a second that it was Warren behind him, buried deep in his ass, and he came with a groan.

After, he rolled onto his back again and stared at the ceiling, the still-wet toy poking into his knee. It was, by far, not his most regrettable wank, but he still felt kinda bad. Warren was, and always had been, off-limits. He was eye candy, nothing more. He liked to think they had a mutual understanding there. 

This was such a bad idea. He should have just sucked it up and asked Hank. 

Bobby could hear his phone buzzing in the other room, but he was too blissed out to get up and see who it was. In theory, the Institute wasn't being destroyed. He assumed someone would come and get him if it was. He'd moved off-campus for a reason after he'd returned from LA. It was probably fine. 

But after a few more minutes and a few more texts, Bobby peeled himself off the bed and went to get it. 

It was just Warren asking for pictures of the costumes Bobby had packed. Taking pity on him for the amount of notice Bobby had given him, Bobby started laying out his clothes on the bed, taking artful pictures of each outfit. Rictor, claiming Shatterstar had put him up to it, had been very insistent about the theme nights. Bobby had spent the better part of the last four months ordering everything online.

 _Thanks_ , Warren texted once Bobby had sent all the pictures. _Not even going to mention the dildo._

Bobby swore and glared at the dildo in question. The curve of the silicone made it look faintly apologetic. 

_Could have been worse_ , he typed back, keenly aware of his own nudity. _Could have sent a selfie._

Warren's response was quick. _Nothing I haven't seen before, Frosty._

Bobby went warm at the teasing, not even sure if Warren meant seeing Bobby naked or seeing someone else's fake cock on their bed. The former was definitely true, and the latter, well, Warren had been having sex for basically as long as Bobby had known him. He assumed his life had been one big orgy. 

_Go to sleep_ , Bobby replied and received a smiley face in return.

* * *

After he finished teaching his Thursday morning class, he popped by Kitty's office to inform her that Warren would be the one coming along with Bobby on his sea-monster-hunting, totally-gay vacation. "He says he'll even pretend to be into guys," Bobby assured her. "So that part shouldn't be a problem."

"Huh," Kitty said. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Kitty replied, shuffling some papers on her desk. Bobby took that as his sign to leave. As he reached the door, she spoke again. "I'll see you both when you get back. Let me know if I need to update your health insurance if you decide to get married," she added, the corner of her mouth twitching. 

"That's not happening," Bobby assured her. "Trust me. Warren's just helping me out."

"Sure. Say hi to Marco for me," Kitty added blithely. 

With a deep sigh, Bobby turned around and left.

* * *

Bobby spent all of Friday packing, ignoring the growing number of butterflies in his stomach. Warren texted him off and on, including a picture of himself surrounded by a mountain of packages. It was hard not to get excited when Warren was treating this like an actual vacation he wanted to go on. 

He probably needed one, too. Desperately. Worse than Bobby. However messed up Bobby's life seemed at the time, Warren's was always a shit-show in comparison. Sometimes, when he was alone and letting his thoughts go places he normally didn't let them near, he mourned the man that Warren used to be. For Warren's sake, not his own. He made Bobby feel helpless sometimes, and he hated feeling like that.

He was a hero. Heroes saved people. He resented not being able to do anything to make it better. 

Bobby shook himself out of his thoughts. Warren would punch him in the nuts if he knew Bobby had ever thought about him that way. Warren was fine being an object of lust, but an object of pity? Bobby was gonna pass on that. He was short enough on friends these days as it was. No point losing another one. 

Since he was thinking of him, he sent Warren a quick text. 

_Remember. Meet outside the X-Mansion at 8. Don't be late or you'll have to charter your own plane._

_I'll be there_ , Warren texted back almost immediately. 

_K_ , Bobby typed. _See you then, Flyboy._

Bobby plugged his phone in then went through his suitcase, making absolutely sure he had everything. He checked the tickets again, confirming the date and time. Pouring himself a frosty glass of milk, Bobby sat at the kitchen table and flipped through the pamphlets one last time. There was one outlining their Code of Conduct, a single line in bold at the bottom: _Mutants welcome_. That made him feel good.

With a yawn, Bobby finished off his milk then stumbled back into his bedroom. Turning off all the lights, he laid down and tried to sleep. He tossed and turned for a bit, convinced he didn't have his passport, so he got up and checked, finding it exactly where he had put it. He went back to bed. 

But he still couldn't sleep. 

Most of his travel until this point in his life had been forced on him. He didn't get to be excited because he usually didn't know it was happening until he was already there. And even when he knew about it, it was usually somebody else's decision. It had taken eight months of Rictor talking this cruise up for Bobby to even consider going. He was an X-Man, first and foremost. People were counting on him.

Bobby was extremely bad at turning that part of himself off. Unlike Warren, he didn't have a chalet in Colorado to disappear to from time to time. Most of Bobby's time off was spent at his parents' house, aka the least restful place on the entire planet. His mom had actually made him promise not to let his picture end up on the website for the cruise. Bobby tried very hard not to take stuff like that personally.

Bobby sighed. He knew he was overthinking this, but he couldn't help it. It was like gay Christmas Eve. 

Eventually, though, he started feeling sleepy. His last thought before finally drifting off was a simple one: he hoped none of them were going to get eaten by a sea monster because that would totally suck.


	2. The First Day

Bobby woke up twenty minutes before his alarm went off. He felt like he hadn't slept at all. With eyes half shut, he shuffled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Once the water was warm, he stepped into the tub and started systematically cleaning every inch of his skin, paying particular focus to his junk. Maybe it was a little ambitious, but it was better to be prepared in this instance than not. 

While his hair was being conditioned, he did a little manscaping. Growing up, his mother had used the phrase _hope springs eternal_ a lot, usually when Bobby was begging for something he wasn't going to get. It came to mind now, although he suspected his mom would be horrified if she knew the context.

He did one last luggage check before going into the kitchen to brew some coffee. 

Travel mug in hand, he was out of the apartment way ahead of schedule. 

Looking to put the least amount of effort possible into moving, Bobby iced up his bottom half and glided his way to the X-Mansion, not entirely surprised to see Rictor and Shatterstar already standing there. Shatterstar had his arms wrapped around Rictor's waist from behind, and whatever he was whispering in Rictor's ear had him smiling widely. Bobby felt a little awkward interrupting them.

"Uh, hey," he said. 

"Oh shit, you actually showed. I guess I owe Star twenty bucks," Rictor replied with another weird, uncharacteristic smile. This might have been the most relaxed Bobby had ever seen him. Even his clothes reflected that – jean shorts frayed at the edges, a black tank top with a rainbow heart on it. 

"Yeah, sorry. You caught me in the middle of an existential crisis. I'm all better now."

"Join the club," Rictor said with a derisive snort. "Well, we're glad you made it after all. Welcome."

"Yes, welcome," Shatterstar said gravely. 

Like Rictor, he was casually dressed in board shorts and a grey v-neck t-shirt with some pink, blue and purple smears across the front. Both of them had flip flops on, the same type of cheap ones that Bobby had shoved his feet into. _I should have ordered more rainbow stuff_ , Bobby thought idly. He felt bland. 

"Thanks," Bobby said. 

Bobby had only met Shatterstar a few times. He barely knew anything about him, except he was from Mojoworld and Rictor had married him after years of on-again, off-again dramatics. The only time they had actually spoken to each other, Bobby had been pretty sure Shatterstar had been about to kiss him. 

Rictor snorted suddenly, obviously remembering the same thing. "Oh, yeah, you can relax. That isn't a thing he does anymore." He levelled a glare at Shatterstar. "Not after we learned about consent." 

"I can read body language," Shatterstar protested. 

"Still doesn't mean you should be pressing your lips to the mouths of everyone who finds you attractive. For one, we'd never actually get anywhere. You also end up outing people," Rictor added, looking over at Bobby, who hadn't actually made the connection until then. "We didn't tell anyone."

"Yeah, great, thanks," Bobby muttered. 

"You're welcome," Shatterstar said.

"Anyway," Rictor said, giving Shatterstar's hand a squeeze. Shatterstar kissed the side of Rictor's head, right at his temple, and Bobby tried to ignore his own sense of longing. "I think I studied Google Maps closely enough to make sure we get to Miami in one piece and don't, like, scare the locals too badly."

"We're still waiting on someone."

Rictor grimaced. "That's a pretty quick rebound, dude."

"Ugh, we're just friends. He's doing me a favour. Besides, he'll actually be useful when it comes to this alleged sea monster, unlike some of us." He gave a pointed look at Rictor, who returned the sentiment with his middle finger. "This is purely a financial transaction. And a mutual need for a vacation."

Rictor remained skeptical. "So who is it?" 

Warren, always one to make a grand entrance, picked that moment to drop out of the sky. Unlike the rest of them in their shorts, shirts and flip-flops, Warren was dressed like someone straight out of _Miami Vice_. He should have looked ridiculous. On some level, he definitely did, but he also completely pulled it off in his tastefully baggy linen suit, grey fabric of his jacket sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"You guys all know each other, right?" Bobby asked casually, ignoring the look Rictor was giving him.

"I'm not sure I've ever formally met Shatterstar," Warren replied, offering his hand. Shatterstar glanced down at it, his expression unreadable, before shaking it. Rictor snorted softly, making it clear he knew exactly what was going on. "Though Rictor I definitely know. It's been a while. How's it going?"

Rictor shook Warren's hand when he offered it. "Good. Looking forward to this vacation."

"It feels long overdue," Warren replied amiably. "I'm ready to lounge by the pool for a week."

"Same," Rictor said. He clapped his hands together. "So are we ready to get this show on the road?"

At their nods, Shatterstar picked up his swords, crossing them in front of his chest. Energy crackled in the air, raising every hair on Bobby's body. Rictor closed his eyes, brow furrowing, and then suddenly an X made entirely of light popped into existence. Rictor grabbed his and Shatterstar's suitcases. 

"He can't hold it open forever," Rictor said, waving them through. "Hurry it the fuck up."

Warren stepped into the X without question, and Bobby followed behind him. On the other side of the portal was an alleyway behind a hotel. He crashed into a dumpster, hitting it with a loud bang. Warren was perched on top of it, his reflexes quicker than Bobby's. Rictor walked straight into Bobby's back. 

"Fuck," Rictor said. "That wasn't there in the pictures. Shove over so Star has some space."

Bobby stepped aside, making room, and then just like that, they were in Miami. The heat hit him immediately, the humidity settling on Bobby's skin like dew. Warren's hair already looked a little frizzy, but Bobby decided not to mention it. He had all week to make fun of Warren. He deserved a break.

* * *

They were pretty early for their boarding time, so they hung around down by the pier as it slowly filled up. There were a lot of dudes. More than he expected. Rictor had warned him, but Bobby hadn't really been able to picture it until then. He'd gotten used to being one of a handful of queer guys in the room. 

Even among the X-Men, united by their freaky genes, he was still the odd one out most of the time.

"Wow, this is..." he said, realizing how quiet he'd gotten, but he had no idea how to finish that sentence.

"It's wild, right?" Rictor said with a grin, head tipped against Shatterstar's back, in the space between his shoulder blades. His arms were slung loosely around Shatterstar's waist as Shatterstar swayed slightly on his feet, eyes half-closed. "You're gonna have so much fun, dude. Just a total blast. Even with, you know, the whole sea monster thing looming over us. And that's probably bullshit anyway." 

Bobby snorted. "Didn't work out so well last time, did it?"

"It worked out perfectly," Shatterstar said suddenly, opening his eyes. "We simply finish this mission quickly, so we can return our focus to our vacation." Rictor bit the round of his shoulder softly, earning a small, knowing smile in response. "I, for one, am looking forward to wearing all of my bathing suits."

" _Pendejo_ ," Rictor breathed. 

Bobby had stopped taking Spanish after ninth grade, but he knew what that word meant. 

"I just want to sit in the pool and soak," Bobby said. "And, like, drink my face off. It's open bar, right?"

"Fuck, yeah, it is," Rictor replied with a grin.

Warren had been uncharacteristically silent throughout this entire exchange. Bobby glanced over at him to make sure he was okay, but he seemed fine, blue eyes scanning the crowd, face betraying nothing. Maybe he was nervous or rethinking the whole thing. Unlike the three of them, Warren was a well-known mutant. Those wings were practically a billboard. Everyone _was_ going to think he was gay.

Bobby didn't know how to tell Warren that it was fine if he had changed his mind without also telling Rictor and Shatterstar, who were obviously cool about keeping secrets, but still, some things were private. But on the other hand, Warren was a big boy. If he did have regrets, he could simply flap off into the night, never to be heard from again. Bobby would even be a bro and bring his luggage home. 

"We should probably get in line," Rictor said. "This shit can take forever."

They gathered up their suitcases as Shatterstar slung the bag with his swords across his back. Warren walked ahead, his gay little X-ducklings following behind. The soft gold of his hair curled around his shoulders from the humidity. His ridiculous suit looked even better from the back. Rictor caught him staring and made a kissy face at him, and Bobby gave him the finger, silently mouthing, _fuck you_.

"My apologies, but this is not the right entrance," Shatterstar said with obvious reluctance. 

Bobby glanced up at the sign dangling above them, _Priority Entrance_ written in cursive lettering.

"Warren, what the hell did you do?"

"I don't like waiting," Warren replied with a lofty shrug. "Don't worry about it. Just say thank you."

Rictor and Shatterstar exchanged glances then followed Warren up the ramp. Bobby glared after them, but it wasn't like he didn't know how Warren was. Filthy rich, unfailingly generous. The idea of tallying up all the things Bobby had let Warren pay for over the years made his stomach churn uncomfortably. 

Bobby had long ago accepted it just wasn't worth worrying about. 

With a sigh, he grabbed his suitcase and speed-walked until he caught up with the others.

* * *

Once they were checked in, Rictor and Shatterstar started making noises about fucking off. Quite literally, Bobby suspected. Warren was still at the desk for some reason. Bobby didn't need to know. Whatever it was, it was probably expensive, and Bobby didn't want to feel compelled to go halfsies. 

"Let's regroup for dinner," Rictor said, an arm looped around Shatterstar's waist. "Meet in our room at, like, five-thirty? We can go over what we know about the you-know-what and then go grab something to eat. It's the welcome party, and I know we can't get wasted, but we can still have fun. After naps." 

Bobby smirked. "Is that what we're calling it now?" 

"We will definitely be napping," Shatterstar replied. "We will fornicate after. Likely more than once."

"Ah, there it is. That too much information thing I've been low-key worried about all morning," Rictor said, steering Shatterstar towards the elevators with a palm pressed to the small of his back. It was really weird seeing Rictor laugh, Bobby decided. "Just drop by whenever you're ready. We're in 1748." 

"Okay, see you guys later," Bobby said faintly, trying to tamp down the envy crawling under his skin. 

As Bobby waited for Warren, an older guy in head-to-toe leather gave him an appreciative look. Bobby returned the attention, a crooked little smile on his lips as Bobby's eyes swept over the guy's body, pausing briefly on the guy's pierced nipples. He'd thought about getting pierced a few times himself, but considering how unforgiving X-Men uniforms were, he hadn't quite worked up the courage yet.

It was hot as fuck, though. The guy gave him one last look then left just as Warren finished up. 

"A nap sounds like a good idea," Warren said. "I feel like I haven't slept in days."

"You heard all of that?"

"Most of it," Warren said. "Eagle eyes and eagle ears, remember?"

"Eagle ears is not a thing," Bobby replied, earning his first laugh of the day from Warren. They headed for the elevators, moved along by the crowd of people. Bobby was eager to see what the room looked like, considering how much he had paid for it. After all the taxes and add-ons, it hadn't been cheap.

It turned out they were on the same floor as Rictor and Shatterstar. 

They found their room right at the end of the hall, in the corner. Warren used his key-card to unlock the door, his wings blocking Bobby's view. Bobby waited for Warren to move before finally getting his own glimpse of the place. He hissed in air between his teeth as he took in the downright palatial room.

"This looks way different from the pictures," Bobby said. 

"I upgraded us," Warren replied absently, striding across the room to the balcony. He opened the glass doors, letting the salty sea air into the room. Turning around, he surveyed his surroundings, wings spread out behind him. "Not bad," he said after a moment. "For the second-best room, anyway." 

"Oh yeah, we're definitely slumming it. I can't believe you. What was wrong with the other room?"

"Nothing, except this one is much bigger. I got Rictor and Shatterstar moved into the one you booked."

"Your generosity knows no bounds," Bobby said, dripping with sarcasm. "You could ask, you know."

Warren shook his head. Bobby had long held a theory that if Warren hadn't been born with that face, more people would call him on his bullshit. And he was as stubborn as fuck, so Bobby didn't bother wasting any more of his breath on trying to shift Warren's world view. The room _was_ pretty awesome.

Instead of using the stairs, Warren flew up to the second level, disappearing over the glass railing. With a sigh, Bobby went to join him, taking the route the architects had intended. At the top was a walk-in closet that was almost bigger than Bobby's bedroom back home, a hilariously huge bathroom, and a king-sized bed with a perfect view of the water. Warren had already stripped down to his briefs.

"Are you seriously that tired?" Bobby asked, even though he was already feeling his own lack of sleep.

"Bone-deep," Warren confirmed. "Are you getting in here or not?"

"I guess we are gonna be up late," Bobby replied, shrugging out of his t-shirt. He thought about leaving his shorts on, but what was the point? They had shared so many single-bed rooms throughout the years, and they had always ended up the same way. Warren hadn't acted any differently after Bobby came out.

And it _was_ more comfortable to sleep in just his underwear. 

He took the shorts off. 

Bobby slipped under the covers, coming to rest under Warren's waiting arm, his back to Warren's chest.

In the early days of their friendship, this had been a lot more awkward, but once they had accepted their roles in this world – Bobby as the unconscious cuddlee and Warren as the equally unaware cuddler – they just skipped to the end now instead of waking up in the middle of the night with apologies.

Just as Bobby was drifting off, Warren murmured, right in his ear, "we'll talk about sex later."

Bobby exhaled sharply. _Asshole_ , he thought without heat. Why did he like this guy again?

Bobby stayed awake for a long while after, Warren's breath warm on the back of his neck.

* * *

They woke up well before departure time. While Warren was in the shower, Bobby got dressed then headed back downstairs to look around some more. There was a fully stocked mini-bar with a polite sign making it clear that everything in it was included in the price of the room. Fucking rich people.

While Bobby was poking around, there was a knock on the door. He opened it to find a guy standing there with their luggage, an overflowing stack of tablets and file folders clutched precariously in one arm. He immediately offered his free hand, and Bobby took it. He had soft skin, well moisturized. 

"I'm Marco," he said, giving Bobby a respectably firm shake. "You must be Bobby. Welcome aboard."

"Thanks," Bobby replied, stepping back to let Marco into the room. He waved him off when he tried to go back for the suitcases. Marco had his hands full, and Bobby wasn't a total jerk. "Glad to be here."

"You were always my favourite X-Man," Marco confessed with a charming grin. "Iceman. So cool."

"Literally," Bobby added, unable to resist the obvious joke. Marco laughed. 

Marco put everything down on the dining room table – for the record, Bobby found it absolutely absurd that they even had a dining room – and started sorting it all into piles. "I stopped by Shatterstar and Julio's room first, but there was no answer," he explained. "So if you don't mind, I can tell you?"

"Go for it," Bobby said. They were probably too busy banging to hear the knock on the door. 

"Your key cards give you access to the entire ship. I've loaded these tablets with everything you would need. I printed out a couple things, too, since I know some people prefer that." At that comment, Bobby nodded. Warren loved carrying around stacks of paper. "You also have access to the security system."

"What do you think about this whole sea monster thing?" Bobby asked.

"I've learned to be better safe than sorry," Marco replied. "I hope it's nothing, but if it is..."

"X-Men," Bobby said, getting it. He looked up as Warren came down the stairs, wearing only his pleated _Miami Vice_ pants, hanging low on his hips. He was barefoot, and currently scrubbing a towel through his wet hair. "Uh, Marco, this is Warren. I don't know if Kitty told you he was coming or not."

"She mentioned there would be a fourth guest. Hello," Marco said, offering his hand. Warren shook it. 

"We'll do our best to make sure everyone stays safe and has a good time," Warren said with the sort of conviction he made all of his promises with. "And please accept my thanks for the wonderful customer service we've received. I had a few personal requests, and they were able to deliver on all of them."

"Sure, no problem," Marco replied easily. Meanwhile, Bobby was dying inside from embarrassment. Warren was just too much sometimes. "If you have any other questions or if you run into any issues, please don't hesitate to contact me. I basically don't sleep for a week, so I'm usually easy to find."

"Great," Warren said. "Thank you." 

Marco turned to leave, but he paused at the door, hand resting on the handle. He twisted back around. "I just wanted to tell you how important it was to me when you revealed to the world that you were a mutant. Until then, I hadn't told anyone what I was. I ended up coming out a second time after that." 

"Thanks for letting me know that," Warren replied with a genuine smile, something he typically reserved for friends.

Marco nodded and left. Bobby watched as Warren looked over the items on the table, mouth drawn tight into a straight line as he flipped through everything. Bobby was glad Marco had good memories of Warren going public with the fact he was a mutant. He just remembered feeling sick to his stomach. 

"Hey," Warren said suddenly, "do you want to go explore the ship? Get a lay of the land, so to speak."

"It depends. Are you still planning on cosplaying as a character from _Miami Vice_?"

Warren slapped Bobby on the back as he passed him, the sting of his hand lingering on Bobby's skin afterwards. "It's called fashion, buddy. You should try it sometime. Might help you actually get laid." 

Warren crouched down and unzipped his suitcase. He pulled out a swimsuit and an orange tank top that had _OHHH YEAH!_ written on the front. Bobby rolled his eyes, not surprised he kept it. Warren started changing right there, leaving his linen pants in a pile on the floor, probably assuming Bobby would hang them up later. 

"Okay, I'll have you know I have zero problems in that department. My ass milkshake brings all the boys to the yard," Bobby said without thinking, and Warren made a noise of disgust. Which was fair, considering the image Bobby had conjured. "Oh, you know what I mean. I'm a catch. I'm _gorgeous_."

"I'm glad you're good at something," Warren replied. He pushed his underwear down, naked for one glorious moment before dragging his suit on. Idly, Bobby thought he should do the same. Just not in front of Warren, who would probably make fun of the fact he was a bit hard after that brief glimpse. 

"Dick," Bobby muttered, smiling, and didn't miss the grin on Warren's face either.

* * *

They roamed the ship for a bit, not really talking to each other until it was time to depart, and then they got drinks and hooted and hollered with everyone else, celebrating the beginning of the trip. Warren was already drawing attention, and Bobby barely resisted the urge to confiscate everyone's cameras. 

Once they were underway, they resumed their exploration floor by floor, checking out all the amenities and getting a sense of the layout. Bobby was already on his second drink while Warren was still nursing his first. Bobby wanted to tell him he had nothing to worry about, but he guessed Warren was the best judge of that. Bobby knew enough about the Archangel side of him anyway, if he needed to be stopped. 

After they were done, they grabbed two chairs by the pool and lounged for a couple hours, splitting their time between the recliners and the pool. Warren's swimsuit was predictably skimpy, which Bobby appreciated on several levels. For one, it assured him everything was normal and exactly as it should be. For another, the tease of his dick through spandex remained one of Bobby's favourite daydreams.

Eventually, after a whole bunch of relaxing and one last soak in the pool, they made their way back to the room. Still wet, Warren squirmed out of his swimsuit and tossed it into the guest bathroom. Completely naked, he walked out onto the deck and leaned against the railing. He really had the most magnificent ass, Bobby thought, valiantly trying to not stare. It just annoyed him that Warren knew it.

After hanging up his own suit beside Warren's, Bobby came out to join him. 

Warren looked over and smirked. "I knew there was an exhibitionist hiding inside you."

"Whatever," Bobby replied, flushing. "Nobody can see anyway."

"I can see," Warren told him, grinning out over the water. "Speaking of which, how cool are you with me accidentally walking in on you have sex?" The delivery was so casual and unexpected. Bobby went redder as the words registered. Warren continued on as if he hadn't noticed Bobby's reaction. "Even with the lights off, I'm going to see everything if you're railing some guy over the back of the couch." 

"It's more likely I'd be the one getting railed," Bobby muttered. 

Warren briefly considered that bit of information then shrugged. "Point still stands," he said. 

"It's your room, too," Bobby said after a moment, grateful for his ice powers. "I guess if it happens, it happens. Unless that makes you uncomfortable or whatever, and then I can just not take a guy here."

"I'm not going to cock block you, buddy. What if that guy has a roommate, too?" It was a rhetorical question, which was the only reason Bobby didn't answer it. That and all the blood had rushed out of his head and into his dick. "Okay, so how does this work for you? Living room is off limits to stranger sex. If you do bring a guy back, leave a flip-flop on the dining room table, and I'll get the message."

"What if we don't make it up there?"

"Then I'm going to get an eyeful of you getting plowed by some random guy," Warren replied with an easy grin, and Bobby fought the urge to swoon. Obviously pleased with how their negotiations had gone, Warren nodded. "All right. I won't go out of my way to see anything but don't be embarrassed if I do. I brought earplugs for a reason. If you're upstairs in the bedroom, I'll just conk out on the couch." 

"Great," Bobby said faintly, growing increasingly concerned he was going to freeze his own dick off accidentally. The thought of Warren seeing him get fucked – or fucking, Bobby had his preferences, but they weren't particularly strong ones – made him feel kind of funny inside. Not a bad funny either.

"Thanks for inviting me," Warren said. "I think I'm going to have a good time. I feel better already."

"Sure," Bobby said, regretting everything.

* * *

At twenty after five, the phone in the suite rang. Bobby picked it up because he was closest. 

"Yeah, we do not have our shit together enough for you guys to come over yet," Rictor said, barely giving Bobby time to get through his polite greeting. He sounded absolutely wrecked. "You should go eat without us and we'll regroup later. Maybe we'll have time to meet up before the welcome party." 

"We could order in. Save the trouble of having to change again." Neither he nor Warren had gotten far enough along to put their clothes back on. They had spent the last hour on the balcony, drinking and chatting, enjoying the last of the day's sun. "We're in room 1701. Pop by whenever you're ready." 

There was some muffled talking in the background. "Okay, that works," Rictor said. "We'll be there."

Bobby came back out onto the balcony, taking a moment to admire Warren sprawled in his chair, wings fanned behind him. He looked like something out of a painting. As Bobby sat back down, Warren looked up, using his hand to shield his eyes. "Are we being stood up?" Warren asked with a smirk.

"What can you do? Young love," Bobby said, ignoring the twinge of sorrow in his belly. It was the first time all day that he'd thought about The Great Dumping, and he wished he hadn't. "I said we'd order room service. I hope that's okay." He chucked the menu he'd grabbed at Warren. "Have at it, pal." 

Warren hummed, pleased. He started browsing through the options. 

Eventually, Bobby peeled himself off the recliner and headed inside. He took a shower, scrubbing the smell of chlorine off his skin, then knelt down by his suitcase, looking for his outfit for the party. There wasn't much to find, a pair of red and white striped shorts and some blue suspenders with white stars. 

By the time he came back downstairs, Rictor and Shatterstar were already there, sitting on the couch. Warren was on the phone, ordering, a towel wrapped around his waist. He plucked on one of Bobby's suspenders when he walked by, the snap shockingly loud. Bobby rolled his eyes, but it was impossible to get mad about it. He would have done the same thing. He flopped down in one of the armchairs. 

"Have a nice afternoon?" Bobby asked pleasantly. 

Shatterstar's fingers were twisting idly in Rictor's hair. "It was quite relaxing, thank you," he said.

Rictor gave him a self-satisfied smirk. "Yeah, it was great. Did you get a chance to check out the ship?"

Bobby nodded. "And then we hung around by the pool for a bit and then hung back here a little more."

"This room is..." Rictor exhaled, his breath whistling through his lips. Bobby had never seen him so laid back before. His posture was radically different. Bobby wasn't quite at that point yet, but he hoped he got there soon. "Something else. I thought our room was big. It didn't look that huge in the pictures."

"You're in the room I booked for me and... you know..." Inwardly, Bobby cursed. He'd been doing so well all week, and now he'd thought about _him_ for the second time in less than an hour. "So, yeah, it's pretty nice. Mr. Moneybags over there," Warren gave him the finger, "upgraded us to this one."

"I guess I married the wrong X-Man," Rictor said. 

" _Julio_."

"I'm joking," Rictor said, laughing. He patted Shatterstar on the thigh. "You know I love you, babe."

In his younger years, Bobby would have gagged. Not because he meant it, but because it was the obvious joke. Now, when he was feeling positively ancient, he didn't even have the heart to try. It just bummed him out. He hated feeling envious, but the whole being dumped thing had left him raw. Even his usual refrain of _well if Rictor can figure it out so can I_ wasn't having much effect right then. 

"Anyone want a drink?" Bobby asked suddenly, hopping back up. "Our mini bar is free."

"Sure," Rictor said. 

Beside him, Shatterstar nodded. 

Warren made a negative sign with his hand. 

After he finished ordering, Warren disappeared upstairs. Bobby handed out the drinks then sat down to chat, though it was mostly him and Rictor just volleying barbs back and forth. Shatterstar kept his fingers in Rictor's hair, looking upon him with a warm expression as Bobby pretended not to notice. 

He did, however, notice when Warren came back down, dressed in a matching pair of shorts. Instead of starred suspenders, he had a pair of white, star-shaped glasses pushing his hair back. And like Bobby, he also had on a pair of gym socks and equally white tennis shoes. They were basically a matching set.

"Is this why you haven't slept in days?" Bobby asked. He pushed a booze-free drink at Warren.

"Maybe, maybe not," Warren said breezily. "I thought it would help if we stayed on brand."

"You should have got Star in on it, too," Rictor said, squeezing Shatterstar's knee. 

He was, Bobby noticed for the first time, dressed like he and Warren were, in American colours. Only Rictor had his own colour scheme going, his shorts in the same colours as the Mexican flag, with red, white and green beaded bracelets around both wrists. "Sorry," Bobby said. "I thought you were from..."

"I am," Shatterstar replied. "But my mother is American. I understand that means I am half of one."

"Who's your mother?"

"Dazzler," Shatterstar said. Behind him, Warren, who had been fixing his hair in the mirror, froze. The X-Men were just so fucking incestuous, Bobby thought, trying his best attempt at a poker face. All these interconnections between everyone, spanning time and space or some ugly combo of the two. 

It wasn't worth worrying about at any rate, but the expression on Warren's face had been hilarious.

* * *

Over a table of food, they went through the mission and came up with a strategy. 

"We can take lead," Bobby said, looking over at Warren, who nodded. Rictor and Shatterstar puffed up, getting ready to protest, but Bobby waved them down with a fork. "It's your first anniversary. We'll just keep our eyes a little wider, moderate the amount of alcohol we consume a little more. If something comes up, we'll alert you, but I don't see why all four of us have to spend the entire night working."

"Then we should split which days we work," Rictor said. "Star and I will take tomorrow if you guys wanna take tonight. Just... we'd like Thursday to ourselves if that's all right. That's the actual day."

"Sounds fair to me," Warren replied with a shrug. 

Shatterstar inclined his head. "It's acceptable."

"Okay, done," Bobby said, flipping through some of the file folders. He would never admit it to Warren, but it _was_ deeply satisfying to push paper around sometimes. Bobby was a very tactile person. "Evidently, there's a pool for bragging rights about what this thing actually is. So far, we have a Kraken and a... charby.. chary... please, guys, I need some back up here before I embarrass myself." 

"Charybdis," Rictor supplied helpfully. "It's Greek."

Warren leaned over his shoulder. "Put me down for Colossal Squid. Do you need help spelling it?"

"Thanks, I can manage on my own. But I'm not sure that counts as a sea monster if it actually exists." Bobby scribbled it down anyway, knowing Warren would just put him in a headlock until he did. "I'll go with my personal fav, Leviathan. Hopefully, we're all wrong, and this turns out to be nothing." 

"Cheers to that," Rictor said, holding up his drink. The rest of them lifted their glasses and toasted.

* * *

After dinner, they tidied up then headed outside to the party. Rictor and Shatterstar were immediately swept up by the crowd when they tried to head to the bar. Warren put his hand on the flat of Bobby's bare back and whispered hotly in his ear, "go have fun, okay? I'll keep an eye out solo for a while."

"Are you sure?" Bobby asked, basically having to shout to be heard over the music. 

Warren nodded. "Go get that guy out of your system," he said. "You look super fuckable right now."

With that, Warren pushed him into the throng of guys around them and disappeared. Bobby, still feeling the wine from dinner a little bit, started dancing with the first dude who showed interest. Pretty soon, he was sandwiched by another guy in Chilean colours, and he just rolled with it, enjoying the attention.

During one of his breaks to re-hydrate with water, he caught sight of Warren on the upper deck. He was talking to a man who had his hand slung low around Warren's waist, fingers resting on the swell of his ass. He didn't look uncomfortable, and Bobby watched, waiting to see what happened next. Eventually, the guy drifted away and Warren was alone again, feathers ruffling in the wind as he stared out at sea. 

Draining his bottle, Bobby went up to join him. "Doing okay, buddy?" he asked. 

"Never better," Warren said. "I haven't seen anything. Just water for miles."

"Maybe we'll have better luck tomorrow," Bobby replied, leaning back against the railing to survey the scene before him. The guys, not the possible sea monster. "Do you want to go dance for a bit? I can keep watch for a while. I mean, I can't see for shit, but I'm pretty confident in my ice-wall abilities."

Warren chuckled softly. "I'm good. You have no idea how many guys have hit on me already."

"I can probably guess," Bobby said, tilting his head back to grin at him. There had been a hilarious moment when they'd first stepped on deck and run into three guys wearing fluffy white wings. The look on their faces seeing Warren with his real ones had been amazing. He'd cherish the memory forever.

"You can go back out. Find someone who interests you."

"Eh, not really feeling it today," Bobby admitted, shrugging slightly. "Maybe tomorrow. I mean, as much as I love getting laid, having sex with strangers can be exhausting, you know? I'm gonna pass."

"Afraid I'll walk in on you?" Warren asked, grinning at him. 

"Fuck off," Bobby replied with a laugh. "You'd probably get off on it."

Warren deigned not to comment, and Bobby quickly looked away before Warren noticed his blush. 

They stayed up there for the rest of the night, alternating between shouting over the music and standing there silently, side by side. Up and down the rails, couples and groups gathered, talking, making out, a little more than that. Bobby knew from reading the reviews that the party could go on until sunrise, but he was too old for that shit. He liked his eight hours of sleep. If that made him boring as fuck, so be it. 

An hour or so later, still with no sign of the sea monster and long past the time frame during which it typically appeared, he leaned into Warren, bowing close to his ear, and asked, "you wanna skedaddle?" 

"You sure?" Warren asked, and Bobby nodded. 

If he couldn't have sex, cuddling with Warren was the next best thing. Sometimes, it was even better.


	3. The Second Day

Bobby woke up with Warren's dick poking into the crack of his ass. Nothing he hadn't felt before, but it hadn't happened since he'd come out. He waited for Warren to freak out or something, but even when Warren woke up, he just laid there, arm heavy on Bobby's waist. "What time is it?" he asked groggily.

"Eight," Bobby replied, ignoring the scream of his bladder in order to enjoy snuggling a bit longer.

"I should take a shower," Warren murmured, still not moving. "Any plans for the day?" 

Bobby had made a lot of plans, all of which were up in the air now. Other than roping Warren into joining him, they hadn't really talked about anything, and Warren hadn't asked until then. "I had paid for an excursion, some sort of sightseeing food and booze extravaganza, but you don't have to go."

"No, it sounds good." Using Bobby's hip as leverage, Warren pushed up to a sitting position. He stretched his wings out, the feathers tickling across Bobby's back. He didn't really want to roll over. Evidence of both of them being hard felt really... gay. "Did you sleep okay? You conked right out."

"Yeah, great," Bobby said. He half-watched as Warren stood up, his cock still heavy in his briefs. Those eagle eyes of his definitely knew Bobby was looking, but good old Warren just continued puttering around the room, shaking out his clothes. He needed to hang that shit up, Bobby thought absently.

"Okay if I take a shower first?" Warren asked. 

"Knock yourself out," he replied. 

Bobby fell into a doze, lulled to sleep by the sound of water running. When he woke up again, Warren was back in the room, standing buck naked as he contemplated which shirt to wear. Idly, Bobby noticed he wasn't hard anymore, so either time had helped sort that out or he'd jerked off in the shower.

Which was something Bobby was definitely going to have to do, after watching all of this.

He got up and padded into the bathroom. He was hit with a wall of steam. While he stood under the flow of water, waiting to wake up, he put his hand on his dick and started stroking. Those Chilean guys from last night had been hot as hell, pressed up against him like that. He'd never had a threesome before, so that was nice to imagine, the stroke of his hand speeding up. Two cocks for the price of one.

The image of Warren standing there, all naked and gleaming in the early morning sun, forced its way into his daydream. Warren, watching as Bobby kneeled on the bed, taking cocks at both ends. Bobby bit back a groan. Yeah, that would be pretty okay, he thought, having Warren's eyes on him, seeing how his lips stretched around the cock in his mouth. Or, even better, how his rim flexed over the cock in ass.

Bobby came hard, spurting onto the tiled wall. He stood there for a while panting, feeling the water rush over his back, before using his hand to wash away the worst of it. He felt a little guilty, as usual, using Warren for his fantasies, but that was all they were. Thoughts. And Warren wasn't a telepath. 

"Do we have time for breakfast?" Warren shouted up as Bobby was getting dressed. 

"Yeah, plenty of time. This is a late lunch sort of thing," Bobby hollered in response. 

"Then hurry up," Warren yelled back. "I'm starving."

Bobby tugged on a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a white tank top then headed downstairs to find Warren already at the door. He had his _OHHH YEAH!_ shirt on again and a pair of low-hanging capris. He looked like a frat boy. Warren glanced up as he approached then grinned. "Finally done jerking off?"

"Fuck you," Bobby said, laughing, shoving at his shoulder. They were going there, were they? That solved some of Bobby's internal dilemmas. "Like you didn't do it, too. Morning wood, dude? _Still_?"

"You're only as old as you feel," Warren said loftily.

"And they say I'm the immature one," Bobby muttered, smiling as Warren pushed him out of the room.

* * *

Rictor and Shatterstar were already at the breakfast buffet when they arrived. Rictor looked like a man who had barely survived his night of heavy drinking, nibbling on a dry piece of toast. Shatterstar looked fine. Bobby vaguely recalled the fact he had superhuman healing abilities, which was useful.

Bobby followed Warren over to the buffet, loading up his plate with all the high-fat proteins and sugary carbs he could fit. Warren was a little more discerning, but he'd always been a bacon man and had created his own small mountain. As Warren waited on the toast, Bobby filled glasses with orange juice.

And then they had to find someplace to sit. This had always been the worst part of middle school. 

"Please join us," Shatterstar said when he noticed them, not giving Bobby a chance to overthink the etiquette. Part of the reason Bobby had initially resisted Rictor's suggestion to come on the cruise was the fact he hadn't wanted to be the third wheel. When he'd started seeing someone, the solution had seemed crystal clear, so he'd gone for it. Obviously, that had backfired, but at least now he had Warren. 

Bobby sat down. "Rough night there, buddy?" he asked, bumping Rictor's foot with his toes. 

Rictor just groaned. 

Bobby dug into his plate while Warren alternated between bacon and trying to engage Shatterstar in conversation, which wasn't really going anywhere. Bobby hadn't really thought he was a shy guy, but he had to admit most of what he knew about him had been filtered through Rictor. As Bobby turned his attention to his waffles and ice cream, Rictor laid his head down on the table and closed his eyes. 

"Seriously, is he okay?" Bobby asked after a few minutes, directing his question to Shatterstar. 

"He would feel better if he ate what I asked him to," Shatterstar replied. "And if he would hydrate."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not right here," Rictor muttered, voice muffled by the way his cheek was squished into his face. He exhaled sharply then slapped his palms on the table, sitting up. "Okay, I'm gonna go back to the room and puke, hydrate as my husband has requested, and then swallow a bottle of Tylenol." 

"That will kill you, Julio. Do not do that."

Rictor used Shatterstar's shoulder to prop himself up. He pressed a quick kiss to Shatterstar's concerned head. "For the literal among us, I'm going to swallow exactly two extra-strength Tylenol as prescribed." He said something to Shatterstar in a language Bobby didn't recognize, and Shatterstar nodded. "Star's gonna finish eating with you guys. Are you planning on doing any excursions or whatever today?"

"Yeah, we booked a food and booze sightseeing tour. Or well, I guess I did. You know, _before_."

"Okay, I got a feeling we booked the same thing. Meet in thirty minutes in the lobby?"

"Sounds good," Warren said. 

Rictor gave Shatterstar one last squeeze on the shoulder and then stumbled off. Bobby winced. He remembered those days. And by those days, he meant Monday night when he drank his feelings away. He turned back to the table where Shatterstar was sitting up extremely straight and Warren was making a noticeable dent in his bacon. Bobby reached for one, and Warren _slapped_ his fucking hand.

"Dude, there is an entire buffet of bacon over there. Let me have one. Didn't you ever learn to share?"

"Only child," Warren reminded him. 

"Yeah, same, dude. I would give you one of mine. Trade half of this waffle for two strips."

"Thrown in some ice cream and a strawberry," Warren bargained back. Bobby considered the proposal – he was feeling extremely lazy, and it was easier to do it this way than the other – then nodded his acceptance. As they swapped their food, Shatterstar watched them with an impenetrable expression. 

"So," Bobby said, trying his hand at small talk. "Are you enjoying the cruise so far, Shatterstar?"

"Yes," he said.

"Great," Bobby replied. He seriously needed to ask Rictor what this guy's deal was, but first, bacon.

* * *

As they sat in the lobby, Warren finally got Shatterstar talking, something about eavesdropping and using gossipy guests to pinpoint the you-know-what. Whatever. The whole discussion was annoying him. Like it was any better than Bobby's suggested plan, which basically involved freezing the sea.

"Are you still pretending you have superhuman hearing?" Bobby asked.

"He has enhanced hearing," Shatterstar said, defending his new best friend. "I would trust his opinion."

"Thank you," Warren replied, and Shatterstar nodded stiffly. 

Warren and Shatterstar continued to talk. Bobby kept his eyes on the elevator, waiting for Rictor, who finally reappeared, ten minutes late and looking only marginally more alive than he had at breakfast. Rictor squeezed into the space between Shatterstar and the armrest, ending up mostly on Shatterstar's lap. Bobby couldn't even tell if he was still awake by that point, eyes entirely hidden by his sunglasses. 

Upon seeing Rictor, Shatterstar's look was one of relief, although Warren continued to speak to him, awkwardly killing time until they heard their names called. It turned out they _had_ booked the same tour.

It was the four of them and three other pairs. Bobby worried the tour wouldn't be any good – he hadn't exactly forked out for the absolute top end like Warren would have – but it turned out to be run by an awesome mother and daughter duo who didn't blink an eye when a winged man climbed into their van. 

It was during one of the walks between locations that Rictor began to lag behind the crowd, back to where Bobby was hanging out. Shatterstar and Warren were up front, nodding along with everything their guides were saying. Studious motherfuckers, Bobby thought. He was listening, but he was also enjoying the sights. 

Eventually, Rictor ended up beside him, so Bobby decided to ask the question he'd been holding on to.

"Okay, so why does your husband hate me?"

Rictor groaned. "I told him you guys were gonna think that. I know he's acting weird. It has nothing to do with you personally if that helps. You gotta..." Rictor scratched a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "Where he came from... the X-Men were, like, saviours. Larger than life. Celebrities. He's a little starstruck, and it probably doesn't help that I told him there would only be one of you." 

"Ouch, sorry. I didn't even think you'd need the warning."

"Don't worry. I already made it up to him." Rictor grinned dopily. 

" _Nice_ ," Bobby said, bumping Rictor with his shoulder, and Rictor laughed, bumping him back. 

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, though Bobby suspected Rictor was still feeling the effects of his hangover. He'd brought along a water bottle and took drinks from it periodically. Bobby was about to open his mouth to break the silence, when Rictor asked, "So what's up with you and Warren?" 

"Like... what do you mean?" 

"Your vibe is..." Rictor made a couple vague gestures with his hand. "Weird."

"We're always like this. Since the dawn of time, we've always been like this. It isn't _weird_."

"It's aggressively flirty," Rictor said. "Like, all you do is flirt with each other. Even Star noticed."

Bobby scoffed. "This isn't flirting. This is just... typical Warren behaviour and me responding to it."

"It looks like flirting to me."

"Maybe you're just bad at flirting?" Bobby countered.

"I mean, yeah, fair. I'm terrible at it, but I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong. Forget I said anything," Rictor added, unscrewing his water bottle and taking another drink of water. He looked over at Bobby then dropped his voice, "though you did say that one time, at that Gay Margarita Night we went to, that..."

"Ugh, I was drunk," Bobby protested. "You can't hold anything I say against me when I'm drunk."

Rictor shrugged. "Well, I guess you know yourself best. Ultimately, it's none of my fucking business."

"Yeah, it really isn't," Bobby muttered, and Rictor finally dropped it.

* * *

Bobby tried not to think about it. Warren did always act like this, especially around him. He'd taken Bobby's coming out in stride, not changing his behaviour at all. He would have if Bobby had asked, but Bobby wasn't, despite popular opinion, an idiot. They had a mutually advantageous arrangement going on here. Warren could be as... Warren as he wanted to be, and Bobby would happily reap the benefits. 

It figured Rictor would try to complicate things. This... whatever it was, it wasn't flirting. 

Lunch was good, eaten in a restaurant he never would have noticed if someone hadn't pointed it out to him. He ate alone with Warren up front, under the shade of a leafy tree. Tucked away at the back, Rictor and Shatterstar were seated by themselves, leaning into each other, hands clasped over the table. 

Bobby sighed deeply as he watched them. 

"You okay?" Warren asked, looking up from the menu.

"Sorry, just having a forever alone moment," Bobby replied. "I think I'm envious. I'm so pathetic."

"You're allowed to want to be happy."

"Since when?" Bobby asked, and whatever he had expected from Warren, it wasn't the sympathetic crease of his brow. He had weirdly attractive eyebrows, Bobby thought, and not for the first time. He didn't even think Warren had them shaped. Like the rest of him, they were just naturally perfect.

"You just need to get back on the horse," Warren told him, ruining the moment with a Scott-ism. 

Who was dead. It was amazing how often Bobby forgot that. His chest twinged with momentary grief. He didn't miss Scott's inane leader-man metaphors, but he definitely missed him. Life was so fleeting. And the way Bobby was going, he was going to spend the rest of it unloved and alone. So depressing.

"Were you actually in love with him?" 

Bobby shrugged. "I don't know. Probably not. The idea of him, maybe. He was really good in bed."

"Way to set the bar high," Warren said, closing his menu. "Have you decided what you're getting?"

"Yeah, like, ten minutes ago," Bobby replied, enjoying the unamused look Warren gave him.

They ordered then sat back and waited for their food. Bobby reached for his drink, a rum punch that was a vibrant pinkish-orange colour and had one of those paper umbrellas shoved into it. He watched through hooded eyes as Warren checked his cell phone, frowning down at the screen as he scrolled. 

"Bad news?" Bobby asked, sipping his cocktail.

"Just a lot of bullshit I'll deal with when I get back. I don't even know why I brought this thing."

"Emergencies," Bobby replied wisely. The first thing he had done after climbing into the tour van was email Kitty a brief update, which basically amounted to _nada yet, ship big, liver fine_. He'd even gotten the other guys to take a selfie with him. And not a good one either – he'd caught Rictor mid-scowl, Shatterstar and Warren had been trying to out-attractive one another, and Bobby had blinked. 

Oh well. If nothing else, Bobby had tried. The story of his life.

* * *

They returned to the ship mid-afternoon after Warren had tipped extremely generously. They parted ways, making noises about maybe regrouping by the pool, but Bobby doubted he'd see either Rictor or Shatterstar again before the evening. They had been getting increasingly handsy during the ride back. 

Back in the room, he and Warren changed into their swimsuits. 

Warren handed him a bottle of sunscreen. "Do my back?"

"Yeah, sure." Bobby squirted a blob of cream into his hand, starting at the nape of Warren's neck. His wings twitched when Bobby got too close to them, running his fingers over the ridged skin around their base. "Sorry," he said absently, but Warren just shrugged. He moved his hands to Warren's lower back. 

He felt amazing. Bobby concentrated very hard on not getting an erection and mostly succeeded. 

"I'll do you now," Warren said when Bobby was done, taking the bottle. "Since I know you're delicate."

"I'll have you know, Mr. Eagle Ears, I'm susceptible to burns due to my mutation," Bobby grumbled, exhaling as Warren ran the palm of his hand down Bobby's spine. The no erection plan was rapidly failing. He really needed to get laid and work this out of his system before he did something dumb. 

At least his cock looked good in his bathing suit. He had that one thing going for him right then.

Once he was finished, Warren grabbed his key card and slid a pair of sunglasses over his hair. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Bobby said, cock a little calmer as he picked up his own stuff. He also took one of the tablets, figuring he'd go over security footage from the night before while enjoying a drink. He'd had some booze on the tour, but considering he basically had the night off, he figured another one wouldn't hurt.

Up on the deck, they managed to find two chairs together. Warren flopped onto his stomach immediately, closing his eyes, as Bobby took a little longer to settle. Drink now or later, he debated, trying to gauge the length of the line at the bar. Now, probably, before he got too comfortable. 

"I'm getting something to drink. Want one?" Bobby asked. Warren shook his head. He'd had a thimble of rum at one of the distilleries, and Bobby had finished off his drink at lunch. "I'm not, like, pressuring you or anything, but if you're worried about Archangel-ing it out, I've got your back. I'll _stop_ you." 

Warren cracked one eye open. "You honestly think you could?"

Bobby shrugged. He did, in fact, know he could, but Warren didn't need witty quips right then. "I'm an Omega-level mutant, dude. I gotta be useful for something. I thought the Professor fixed you anyway?" 

Warren sighed. "I can still feel him. It. Me," he said, exhaling sharply. He sounded really fucked up about it, but Bobby had no clue what he could do to make it better. Maybe he shouldn't have pushed it, but he just wanted Warren to relax for a second, especially if Bobby had the means to actually help.

"You don't have to," Bobby said, "but I'm just saying... if you wanted to, I'm all yours for the night." 

Warren considered that for so long that Bobby assumed the answer was no until Warren finally said, "I _could_ use a drink. A full one." Warren turned to glare at him. "But I swear to fucking god, Bobby..."

"I promise not to get sloshed out of my mind," Bobby vowed, pushing up to a stand. "Be right back."

He stood in line and flirted, jumping when some dude dragged a wet finger across his lower back, right where his swimsuit started. It was a relaxed, happy atmosphere. He hadn't wanted to come out, hadn't been ready at all, but if it hadn't happened, he couldn't have been here, and that would have sucked.

He was beginning to understand why Rictor had been so eager for Bobby to experience it. 

Bobby made it back to the chairs without spilling anything. He pressed one perspiring glass to the small of Warren's back, earning himself a full-body shiver. For one long moment, Bobby had been deeply tempted to press it to one perfect buttock instead. Warren sat up and took the drink, perching on the end of the recliner, his wings fanned out behind him. Bobby sat back and balanced the tablet on his knees. 

The security footage was boring, which was both a good and bad thing. The grim spectre of this unnamed sea monster was kind of harshing his vibe. Once Bobby confirmed not a single tentacle had been caught by any of the cameras, he turned his attention back to the scene in front of him.

Something loosened in his chest. He _was_ glad he was here, even if the path had been a little different than he expected. He didn't miss _him_ at all. Warren was a decent substitute, even if he wasn't at maximum fun levels yet. And he liked watching other guys check Warren out and admire his beautiful... everything.

 _Mine_ , Bobby wanted to say, even if it wasn't one hundred percent accurate. It felt close enough.

* * *

They watched some sort of game on deck for a bit – Bobby didn't know the specifics, he had been too busy ogling hot guys _and_ trying to make sure Warren didn't drunkenly transform into an Angel of the Death to pay attention to the rules – but it was loud and fun and the guy who won took it really seriously. After it was over, they headed back to the room and changed into polo-shirts and khaki shorts for dinner, even though they just ended up at the pizza parlour. They argued about toppings for a while before settling on pepperoni, black olives, bacon crumble and green peppers. Warren even ordered them a bottle of red wine. 

"Are you drunk yet?" Bobby asked. Warren looked a little pink in the face, but he could be sunburned. 

"Getting there," Warren admitted, chewing idly at his thumbnail. "Don't let me do anything dumb."

"You don't need my help for that," Bobby replied, earning himself a tap to the shin under the table.

Bobby hadn't held especially high expectations for cruise ship pizza, but it turned out to be awesome. Loads of cheese, fluffy crust, the bottom perfectly scorched. Warren drank an entire glass of wine and kicked him again when Bobby applauded. It didn't hurt or anything, just a soft bump, but it was playful.

And Bobby _loved_ playfully drunk Warren. 

After the pizza, they grabbed some cupcakes from the cupcake bakery – seriously, why had Bobby never been on a cruise before? This place had everything he wanted – before heading back to the room to change. It was superhero night, which... Bobby just had no idea what to do with that. His uniform wasn't exactly iconic and didn't usually need to be under ice, so he dressed like a sexy Batman instead. 

Warren came down the stairs in an abbreviated version of his Champions costume. 

Until that moment, Bobby wouldn't have even thought that was possible. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I had it in the closet. It was easy," Warren said, reaching into the plunging vee of the neckline to rearrange his junk with his palm. Every ounce of blood in Bobby's body went straight to his cock.

Warren should have looked ridiculous – it still boggled Bobby's mind that Warren had worn that thing out in public more than once – but it just brought back a lot of really good memories for Bobby, being in LA with Warren. It hadn't ended like either of them wanted it to, but it had been a fun time anyway. 

The only big difference was he had removed the yellow tights. The whole thing was... _obscene_. 

Bobby wanted to drop to his knees and suck him off, just to prove how obscene it actually was. 

"So I guess that undercover thing really isn't happening, huh?" Bobby croaked. 

Warren finished manhandling his genitals. "That was never happening in the first place," he said, heading into the guest bathroom. Bobby heard the water turn on. So far, he had successfully kept his back to Warren, hiding the noticeable bulge in his briefs. He knew, if he even touched himself to adjust anything, he would probably come, just like that. That was how close he was. It was actually painful.

"You know I'm a public figure, right?" Warren said, coming back into the room. "There's no hiding."

"I know that," Bobby insisted, just like he knew he had to excuse himself ASAP. "I forgot to brush my teeth," he blurted out, heading for the stairs. When he was at the top of them, he shouted, "are you okay alone down there for a few minutes? I wouldn't want to kiss anybody without minty fresh breath."

"I'm fine," Warren yelled back. 

Bobby walked very calmly into the bathroom and turned the tap as far as it would go. He reached into his briefs, pulling out his cock above the black elastic waistband. With one hand pressed to his mouth, he started stroking with the other, fast and furious, using the copious amount of pre-come that had leaked out of the tip as lube. He came shockingly fast, spurting all over the tile floor beneath his feet. 

Dazed, he stumbled over to the running water and grabbed his toothbrush, scrubbing it over his teeth as he kneeled down and wiped up his come with a tissue. He flushed it down the toilet. The front of his costume was a little stained, the wet spot noticeable, so he splashed water at it, making it even bigger. 

He felt wrecked, as if Warren had bent him over the couch and railed him, like he had said yesterday.

Filling a glass with water, he chugged it down before staring at himself in the mirror. There was a neat row of condoms on the bathroom counter, left as a courtesy to the guests. If Bobby hadn't promised Warren that he would watch out for him all night, he would have stuffed his utility belt full of them. 

Maybe he'd get lucky tomorrow night. He needed to get Warren out of his system as soon as he could.

* * *

The thump of the music and the sea breeze helped calm Bobby down once he was back outside. Warren decided to go get drinks, squeezing his way through the crowd, wings drawn in tight. For a better vantage point, Bobby watched him from the upper deck, leaning on the railing with his forearms. 

Rictor and Shatterstar were also up there, standing about thirty feet from each other. Shatterstar was looking out over the water, wearing nothing more than shoulder pads and a jockstrap. He was wearing a long, orange wig with some sort of contraption on his head. The costume looked vaguely familiar. 

Rictor sidled over to Bobby. "Hey," he said, exhaling sharply. "Nothing so far."

"Are you guys fighting?" Bobby asked, glancing at Shatterstar, who hadn't moved. 

"What? No. Not even close."

Flicking his eyes back to the crowd, Bobby confirmed that Warren was still all right then gave Rictor a quick once over. He had a green bandana tied loosely around his neck and shorts that laced up the sides, showing off the bare skin of his hips. "Who are you guys supposed to be?" Bobby asked. 

"Madre de Dios," Rictor breathed. "Seriously? Star and I are dressed as ourselves. You fucking X-Men imprisoned us for days in the danger room when we were dressed like this. Remember that?"

"Whoa," Bobby said, lifting his hands in peace. "I had nothing to do with that."

"Okay, sorry. I'm a little on edge right now. I can't even look at him without getting wood. I just... Dios, he's so hot. How am I supposed to live with this for the rest of my life? I keep thinking it'll get better. But it just gets worse." Rictor pushed his hair back with his hands. "And fuck, I'm not even drunk."

"Not even a little?" Bobby asked. 

"I can barely handle water," Rictor admitted, exhaling again. "Sorry. Sometimes I have feelings."

"Don't we all? Isn't it a good thing that you think your husband is the hottest thing around?"

"He's just too much," Rictor moaned into his hands. "Like... don't look at his ass but _look_ at his ass. I can't even appreciate it properly right now. I'm so fucking seasick, dude, you have no idea. Usually it's okay, but between all the alcohol yesterday, and the sun and the food today, I'm just done."

"Holy shit, dude, do you want me to make you some ice cubes to suck on? I mean, they might be a little salty, but you wouldn't have to get in line," Bobby said, but Rictor just shook his head. At that moment, Shatterstar came over and took Rictor by the elbow. "I can watch him for a bit," Bobby offered. 

"No, I can take care of him and do surveillance at the same time, but thank you for your concern."

Shatterstar led him away, gathering Rictor to him, under his arm. He watched as Shatterstar put Rictor against the rail, holding him there with his legs. The look Rictor gave him was one of pure adoration. Envy formed under Bobby's skin again, making him feel gross. But he just wanted that so badly. 

With a sigh, he headed back downstairs. Warren had finally managed to order their drinks.

* * *

Bobby almost thought the night was going to go off without a hitch, but then two things happened. 

The first thing occurred while Bobby was dancing with Warren, whose wings were definitely in the way, but that just meant people were giving them a wide berth. Or as wide a berth as they could on a deck where they were all packed in like sardines. Warren was still in the pleasantly drunk phase of inebriation, and Bobby was determined to keep him there. Every time Warren leaned in to shout something into Bobby's ear, he put his hand on Bobby's bare stomach, seemingly lower each time.

It turned out Bobby was pretty bad at this getting Warren out of his system thing. 

At least the dark hid his hard-on. 

He had been keeping half an eye on Rictor and Shatterstar all night as well, so he noticed the moment Shatterstar stood up straight, hands falling away from Rictor's body. Bobby stopped dancing, watching as Shatterstar pointed at something in the distance. He leaned into Warren and shouted, "we gotta go!"

Without really thinking about it, Bobby took Warren's hand and pulled him through the crowd. 

They got to where Rictor and Shatterstar were. Warren immediately started scanning the dark, his skin glistening with sweat. Bobby tried looking out for himself, but all he saw was the penetrating darkness. Suddenly, being on a boat, all alone in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, seemed like a big scary thing. 

"I see it," Warren said, barely above a whisper, swaying on his feet, and Bobby immediately curled an arm around his waist to steady him. "It's moving away," he added. "I don't see any signs of aggression."

"I agree with your assessment," Shatterstar replied, just as quiet. "Should we trade partners?"

"I'm just tired," Rictor protested, "and this fucking ship won't stop rocking."

"I'll take him," Bobby said, ignoring him. "Swap with you. Warren seems to have lost his sea legs."

"You poured booze into me all night," Warren replied, but he was already moving towards Shatterstar. 

He and Rictor sat down on some empty chairs nearby. Bobby filled a glass with ice and rose the temperature until it was mostly water. It was an unorthodox use of his powers, but at least he was never thirsty on missions. Carefully, he made Rictor take sips. Bobby really did not want to be puked on. 

Warren and Shatterstar stood there for a long time until Shatterstar shook his head sharply.

"It's gone," Shatterstar said. "I do not believe we were ever in danger."

"Okay," he replied, crossing his arms. "That's good, I guess." 

Bobby went over the situation in his head. It could have been worse, outcome-wise, but they needed to be better prepared. The thing had been far enough away anyway that the only two people who had been able to see it were mutants, and people would have noticed him and Warren jumping over the side. From that point of view, their inaction made sense, but it still wasn't sitting well with him, not at all. 

"No drinking tomorrow, at all, for anyone," Bobby said, trying to sound as confident as Scott always had when wrapping up a situation that hadn't exactly gone their way. "Tomorrow night, we'll see if we can get closer and finally nip this thing in the bud. We know it's out there now. That's step one."

"If you would like to discuss this further, I propose we move to our room, so Julio can lie down."

"I'm fine," Rictor insisted weakly, cup held to his mouth like he was worried he might vomit. 

"Yeah, let's do that," Bobby replied. "We've got this, guys. One more day, and we're there." 

They nodded. They were better than this. They would prove it tomorrow. After all, they were X-Men.

* * *

The second thing happened at the very end of the night. 

Warren's mood shifted. Playfully drunk Warren was replaced by quiet withdrawn Warren, Bobby's least favourite version. Bobby ushered him back to the room and up the stairs, sitting him on the end of the bed. He went to get Warren a glass of water and returned to find him lying face down, totally naked.

"Hey, buddy," Bobby said, pulling him to a kneel. "I need you to drink this then put on some pants."

Warren opened his eyes. "I will drink the water," he replied evenly, "but I will not put on pants."

"Listen, I'm not really up for this bargaining crap right now," Bobby replied, pressing the glass to Warren's mouth. He dutifully drank the whole thing then stared at Bobby, barely even blinking. "We cannot sleep in the same bed together with you naked. It would be very weird. You would regret it."

"I don't understand how a pair of underwear makes a difference," Warren replied.

"It just does," Bobby insisted. "Give me one good reason why this is a good idea."

"Nobody touches me anymore," Warren said, dropping his head forward. In incredibly slow motion – seriously, it would have been hilarious in any other situation except this precise one – Warren tipped onto the bed. "I miss the intimacy. But you're right. It would be weird. Unless you were naked, too."

"You are unbelievable," Bobby said, not sure whether to be angry or laugh. "You're _still_ bargaining."

"Trying to seal the deal," Warren muttered. "I'm usually much better at it. And I'm not _that_ drunk."

"You could barely stand on deck," Bobby pointed out. 

"Two hours ago," Warren countered. "Your debrief in Rictor and Shatterstar's room was _that_ long."

This was why Warren had grown his family's fortune to billions and why Bobby couldn't get a break on his cable bill. Warren was relentless. Completely, utterly relentless. "Okay, I hadn't realized it had been that long. Sorry. That sounds terrible to have to listen to. But you're still a bit tipsy, at the very least." 

"You don't have to," Warren said, finality in his voice. "But if you were interested, we could."

It was a bad idea. Bobby knew it was a bad idea. Warren would know it was a bad idea in the morning when he was sober. But it wasn't the worst idea either. "Okay, counteroffer," Bobby said. "Tomorrow night, after our day of no booze and successful sea monster stopping, I'll gladly naked sleep with you." 

"Final offer?"

"Final offer," Bobby said. "Now... will you put some pants on?"

Warren made Bobby shake on it – this night was turning into a disaster on so many levels that Bobby _couldn't even_ and just wanted to sleep and pretend it never happened – but he pulled on a pair of gym shorts. Bobby thought maybe there would be a little weirdness about the snuggling, but Warren just put his arm over Bobby's torso as usual and pressed in close. Bobby lay there, awake, for a very long time.


	4. The Third Day

They were back at sea the next day. Bobby woke up alone in bed, cocooned in the blankets. With a big yawn, he scrubbed at his belly as he padded into the bathroom. Hopefully, Warren was still around and hadn't, like, flapped off in embarrassment. Though Bobby honestly had no idea what Warren's bar for embarrassment was. He'd never seen him come anywhere near the emotion, but maybe this time.

After he was done in there, he walked over to the rail and looked down at the room. He tried to ignore the sense of relief he felt when he saw Warren out on the balcony, standing like Bobby was, forearms resting on the only thing that was stopping him from toppling overboard. Bobby headed downstairs. 

Sliding the glass door open, he stepped outside. Warren looked over his shoulder as Bobby approached. 

"I'm giving you a choice here," Bobby said, coming to stand beside him. Despite knowing there was a sea monster out there, _lurking_ , it was really beautiful. Serene, peaceful. Probably because the music hadn't started up on deck yet. "I can either bust your balls or pretend it never happened. I'm flexible." 

Warren exhaled sharply. "Yeah, sorry about that. I think I might've crossed some boundaries last night."

"Oh, we have boundaries now?" Bobby asked, feigning surprise, grinning when Warren looked over at him. "In both of our defences, until now, they've pretty much been unacknowledged, and if you made me actually say what any of them are, I'm not sure I could. Naked sleeping should probably be one." 

"Yeah," Warren said, though he didn't sound particularly convinced.

"I've had sex with guys who wanted to naked sleep with me less than you did last night." 

Warren glanced over at him again. "Why do you keep calling it naked sleep?"

"I dunno," Bobby admitted. "That was the first way it popped into my mind, and now I can't stop."

"Fair," Warren said. He lifted his shoulders, letting his head drop. Behind him, his wings stretched out to their full wingspan. He definitely couldn't have done that on the balcony Rictor and Shatterstar had ended up with. "Listen, I'm sorry I made it weird. That wasn't my intention. And I wasn't _that_ drunk."

"Apology accepted then," Bobby said easily. 

Warren tilted his head. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked quietly. "Everything?"

"Not really, no," Bobby admitted. "I thought we had a – mostly unspoken, natch – understanding."

"Do we?"

"Yeah, just an exhibitionist and a voyeur, riling each other up for our own mutual benefit." Warren gave him the most withering look, which was an improvement over this serious morose thing. "Hey, I'm not kink shaming here. And I don't even know what you get out of it nor is it really any of my business."

"I can tone it down."

"Please don't on my account," Bobby said. "Unless you have a problem with our little _understanding_?"

"I don't," Warren assured him, maintaining eye contact. Bobby flushed hotly under the intensity of Warren's gaze. _Maybe he'd take off those shorts now_ , Bobby thought. He'd grown to like their clothing-optional balcony. "But I am going to make you safe word this. Just to make it a little more... _spoken_."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," Warren repeated. "Mine is persimmon."

"Isn't that a monkey?"

"It's a fruit," Warren replied, looking at him pointedly. "Pick something. Remember it. Tell me."

"Okay, jeez, give me a second here, or it's going to be something extremely dumb," Bobby said. He rubbed his hands together, thinking. He needed something great. Memorable. _Him_. No pressure. Warren just continued to wait, more relaxed than he'd been when Bobby had first come out onto the balcony. 

"Popsicle," Bobby blurted out.

Warren straightened up. "That works." Bobby watched as he walked back towards the door, assuming he was leaving, but he just shoved his shorts off and climbed onto one of the recliners instead. With a slight shrug, Bobby yanked his own briefs down and joined him. "That's better," Warren murmured. 

"Yeah, it was getting weird," Bobby agreed with a grin. 

They lay for a bit, sunning. Bobby knew he should get up, grab some sunscreen, but he didn't plan to be out there very long. He was starving, and he smelled a little rank. And it felt good, just enough warmth that he could almost feel it. Now that he was sure Warren was getting something from this, too, Bobby was more than happy to ogle him as much as he wanted. Especially if it made him feel a little better. 

Bobby pursed his lips. "Hey, what did you mean by nobody wants to touch you anymore?"

"That part we can definitely pretend I never said," Warren replied, giving his head a slight shake. 

"I touch you all the time. Jean has hugged you at least once recently. And I know you go for massages."

"Just drop it," Warren said, a hard edge to his voice. 

"Okay," Bobby said softly, and for the moment, he did.

* * *

After another trip to the breakfast buffet – where Bobby loaded up on bacon with no intention of sharing even if Warren _begged_ – they headed up on deck to relax. Things were still a little tense, not like they had been, but he and Warren had been friends for ages. He knew they'd both get over it. 

Rictor and Shatterstar were already there, Shatterstar sitting extremely straight-backed, scowling, as Rictor rubbed him down with sunscreen. Rictor paused briefly to lift a hand and wave them over. "You look like you're planning on ditching us again," he said. "And you sit back down. I'm not finished yet."

"Our marriage was a mistake," Shatterstar told him with a stone-cold delivery. 

To Bobby's surprise, Rictor just laughed. He dragged a slippery hand across Shatterstar's lower belly, knowing and intimate, and a blotchy blush bloomed over Shatterstar's skin, though his stony expression never changed. "You just keep telling yourself that, corazón. I know the truth. And there, all done." 

"We don't want to crash your party," Bobby admitted, even though Warren was already putting his stuff down on the empty chair beside Rictor. "Make you feel like you have to hang out with us or anything." 

"We're getting plenty of alone time," Rictor said, squirting a blob of sunscreen into Shatterstar's waiting hand. Shatterstar immediately started sliding his hands all over Rictor's body, eyes fixed on Rictor's back. "And it'd be kind of a dick move to tell our friends to fuck off in a public space. We're good."

"Well, if you're sure," Bobby said, taking the chair beside Warren, nudging his wing out of the way. 

Bobby sunned for a bit, Warren's feathers in his space and tickling his leg, which made it a little hard to relax properly, but whatever. It wasn't like it didn't feel nice, especially with the particularly fluffy ones. Rictor and Shatterstar ordered a round of Shirley Temples, which Bobby hadn't had since he was a kid. 

After he felt sufficiently roasted, he moved into the pool. He had always liked water, for as long as he could remember. Crossing his arms on the edge of the pool, he rested his chin on them as he surveyed the bustling scene in front of him. Bobby's world felt very small most days, so it was good to remember that a large one was happening out there, even if he felt frequently excluded from it as a mutant. 

Rictor slid into the pool without saying anything, ducking under the water. When he came back up, he settled alongside Bobby. The sunlight caught his wedding ring, and it flashed in Bobby's eye, drawing his attention. Not like he didn't notice it all the time. Rictor constantly played with it unconsciously. 

"How are you feeling?" Bobby asked. 

"Way better," Rictor assured him. "Sleep really helped."

Bobby nodded, switching his gaze over to the collection of chairs they had claimed, just in time to see Warren get up suddenly and stretch, the plane of his stomach going taut. His swimsuit, already scandalously low, dipped even lower, barely hanging on. Whatever thoughts Bobby had been thinking about Rictor vanished immediately. Shatterstar said something to him, and Warren immediately moved in his direction. A few more words, and then Warren had his hips tilted, torso twisted, muscles rippling. 

And then he flipped the edge of his suit even lower, and Shatterstar leaned into his space. 

"What the fuck are they doing?" Bobby blurted out. 

"Other than being ridiculously hot and eager to show that off? I think Star's interested in what brand of swimsuit he's wearing." Rictor chewed his lower lip in between his teeth. Despite the cool water, Bobby could feel the heat radiating off him. "Figures _that_ would finally get him over his thing."

By now, Warren had one perfect ass cheek completely out, the other only tantalizingly teased. Whatever he was saying had Shatterstar looking contemplative and nodding. Warren let his suit snap back on, which Bobby was grateful for, but then he ran his hand over his ass, pulling the edge up. 

"Oh come on," Bobby muttered as Shatterstar turned around and offered his own butt for inspection, and then they were comparing the cuts of their suits like absolute weirdos. Other guys around them were starting to notice this almost impossible to ignore exchange. Warren suddenly did a squat.

Bobby groaned. "This is fucking ridiculous."

"You get used to it," Rictor said. "It's like Star didn't get what clothes were for when he got to Earth. You just gotta not look at him too closely, or it just encourages him. Unless that's what you want." He pressed his lips together briefly. "It was definitely what I wanted. You just gotta... roll with it, I guess."

"Listen, you young whippersnapper. I was being tortured by my freakishly hot friend long before you came onto the scene. I basically invented this feeling. I don't need any words of wisdom from you."

"You're practically drooling, dude."

"He's just so hot," Bobby said helplessly. "And it's so fucking annoying because he knows it, too."

"They always do," Rictor said, clapping Bobby on the back, just once, hard enough to sting.

* * *

Eventually, Bobby moved back to the desk chairs, once he'd been sufficiently cooled. Warren was reading an actual book, though Bobby had no idea where he'd gotten it. Shatterstar had moved onto Rictor's recliner and was sitting between his legs, leaning against Rictor's chest, eyes closed. 

"Anyone want another round of these rocking Shirley Temples?" Bobby asked, holding up his empty glass as he looked around for responses. Rictor nodded, too relaxed, evidently, to speak, and Bobby just assumed if Rictor wanted one, so did Shatterstar, so that made three. He glanced at Warren expectantly. 

"I'll get them," Warren said, putting his book down. "I have to use the facilities anyway."

"Just say piss like the rest of us," Bobby yelled after him. Warren gave him the finger over his shoulder.

Bobby returned to what he'd been doing – admiring all the guys, enjoying the diversity of the crowd and the overall vibe of the deck. He had one leg bent, wrist laying on his knee, while he kept the other stretched out, his arm hanging lax at his side. He couldn't stay still, his knee swaying back and forth. 

Too much extra energy, Bobby thought. He really needed to get laid. 

Just when he thought Warren must have fallen in and drowned in the toilet, he showed up with four drinks perfectly balanced in his hands. Bobby reached up for his as Warren said, with the utmost level of casual as he passed over Bobby's glass, "hey, are you aware one of your balls is hanging out?"

As his drink sloshed over the rim, Bobby glanced down. The offending testicle looked back at him, fully exposed to the world. He put his drink down immediately. "Oh my god. How long has it been like that?" Laughter started bubbling up in him as he stuck his hand into his swimsuit to rearrange shit.

Beside him, Warren was laughing, too, head tipped back, smiling as bright as the sun. That just cracked Bobby up more, his giggles completely taking over. Rictor was shaking with laughter, face pressed into Shatterstar's hair. Hell, even Shatterstar was smiling, a wide grin that showed off all his perfect teeth. 

"I guess that explains where the breeze was coming from," Bobby added, which set them all off again.

Bobby laughed until his stomach hurt, eyes fixed on Warren's face as he looked anywhere but at Bobby because he kept losing it whenever he did. He had a hand pressed to his jawline, half over his mouth, in an effort to contain himself. His hair was all wind-tousled and shit. It was... he was just so beautiful. 

"Do I have something on my face?" Warren asked suddenly, wiping his fingers over his cheek.

"No," Bobby replied, flushing. "Besides I would tell you. I owe you, like, a hundred spinach-in-teeths." 

"A bro doesn't let another bro walk around with his ball hanging out unless it's intentional."

Over Warren's shoulder, Rictor was giving him a _look_. Though his eyebrows spoke volumes, Bobby didn't want to hear any of it. Not right then, when he'd finally gotten Warren to laugh so freely. Or his ball had at least. As a long-standing favourite part of his own body, he thought that it mostly counted. 

Bobby sat back, feeling pleased with himself. He reached down and rearranged his junk again.

Warren crooked an eyebrow. "Still having problems over there, buddy?"

"They are seriously not sitting right," Bobby admitted, doing a little shimmy in his seat. He pulled the fabric all the way out, hoping that would help, but everything just looked wonkier afterwards. "All I can feel right now are my own balls. It's the most I've ever been aware of them, and it's fucking weird." 

"Try not to think about them," Rictor chimed in. "You're usually so good at ignoring the obvious."

"Thanks for the advice, you D-lister," Bobby replied back, earning himself an emphatic middle finger. 

"You should stand up and allow gravity to aid you," Shatterstar suggested. Finally, something helpful.

Bobby jumped to his feet and danced around, shaking everything out. It helped more than he had expected it to. In his attempt to get the fabric situation worked out, he ended up exposing his dick entirely. By this point, Rictor and Shatterstar were completely wrapped up in each other again, for which Bobby thanked every deity he could think of, but Warren got an eyeful. He grinned widely.

"Shut it," Bobby warned. Heat flushed over his body. "I'm not taking crap from you of all people."

"I saw nothing," Warren said, sitting back and stretching again, swimsuit sitting dangerously low. 

It was just _so_ annoying. It would do Bobby well to remember how he hated being annoyed.

* * *

After a quick lunch, Bobby and Warren returned poolside while Rictor and Shatterstar left to go off on their own, with vague promises to meet up again for dinner and the _you-know-what thing_ after that. There was actually zero subtlety about their intentions, but then, Bobby had pretty much planned to spend his entire vacation fucking his boyfriend in between drinking his weight in fruity cocktails and dancing to every song he heard regardless of where he was standing at the time. So far, none of that had really happened, but the sightseeing tour had been cool and this arrangement with Warren was good.

Good. Better than good. Probably taking years off his life, but they were ones he was willing to sacrifice. Was Warren acting any differently than usual? Maybe, but it was really hard to say. For most of his adult life, Warren had been involved with someone. When that happened, he had always toned down the... Warren-ness of his behaviour, although the infrequent snuggling sessions had never stopped. 

Warren had been single for a while now. Was that was what he had meant by nobody wanted to touch him?

Bobby just couldn't picture it. He had basically spent the last decade and a bit wanting nothing else. 

"How big of an asshole would I be if I attempted to go in the pool?" Warren asked suddenly.

Bobby looked over at him. "Since when have you ever cared about being an asshole?" 

"I feel like I keep bumping into people."

"Dude, are you sure they're not intentionally bumping into you? The hot guy with wings?"

"Maybe."

"Definitely."

"You coming then?" Warren asked, standing up. Bobby put down his book – Warren's book, Bobby had stolen it while he was dozing, expecting it to be interesting and bitterly surprised when he found out it decidedly wasn't – and followed him over to the water, which was pretty crowded. "Here?" he asked.

"Yeah, fine," Bobby said. Warren's swimsuit had ridden up a bit into the crack of his ass enticingly. 

The minute he was in the pool, Bobby dunked under the surface, just for a minute to himself. 

Bobby bobbed in the water for a while as Warren made friends with the guys around them, asking them loads of polite questions. It helped that Warren had basically been everywhere on the planet, so he usually had something nice to say about where they were from. Warren stood next to him the entire time, the bulk of his wings resting on the dry edge of the pool. Their thighs touched under the water.

Was it intentional? Bobby didn't know. He didn't care. He felt good, and good was... good. 

But Warren's finger tracing down the back of his neck was probably intentional. Bobby had always been a fan of shivering, so he just went with that, too. While that was happening, an extremely drunk dude draped an arm over Warren's shoulders. Bobby expected Warren to push him away. He didn't.

"Are you who I think you are?" the guy asked, eyes wide.

"I've been told I'm one of a kind," Warren replied, giving the guy an easygoing half-smile.

The guy flushed prettily. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Thanks for the offer, but no drinking for me today," Warren replied. He smiled again, cheek dimpling.

"Can I kiss you instead?" the guy asked just as another dude showed up, looking profusely apologetic. 

"I'm so sorry," the other guy said. "He is totally wasted right now. He's just a really big fan." He turned to Bobby and added with breathy emphasis, "sorry, when he's this drunk, he's really kissy _and_ can't read the fucking situation." The drunk guy made a feeble sound of protest. "We're sorry for bugging you."

"Uh, yeah, that's fine," Bobby said. "You should probably get that guy some water."

"I'll try," the guy said, dragging his friend away. Bobby heard the other guy whisper, "that's Angel, dude, from the X-Men, he's, like, a hundred times more gorgeous in person," as his buddy shushed him. 

"Yeah, that undercover thing was definitely never happening," Bobby said once they were gone.

"Told you," Warren replied. 

"You're not at all fazed by this, are you?"

"Happens all the time," Warren assured him. 

Even though he wanted it to be bullshit to bring him down a peg, Bobby knew it wasn't. It figured that Warren would have more guys throwing themselves at him than Bobby ever had. The finger that had been casually mapping Bobby's neck flicked him in the head, and Bobby glared up at him, annoyed. 

"What?"

"Don't be jealous," Warren said, then cracked up. "Sorry. Just the look on your face. I'm joking."

"Yeah," Bobby agreed faintly and ducked back under the surface of the water, just for a moment.

* * *

Despite the fact Bobby hadn't done anything all day, he was exhausted by the time dinner rolled around. He took a nice long shower, beating off under the water, watching as his jizz washed down the drain. He was too tired for elaborate fantasies, so he just imagined ejaculating on Warren's chest, back when he had had a carpet of chest hair. Warren was secretly the hairiest guy he knew, other than Hank. 

Over the years, he'd definitely left a trail of porn searches for hairy blond guys in his wake. 

When he stepped out of the shower, Warren was already in the bathroom, brushing his teeth again. Naked, as usual, Bobby noted with feigned disinterest, running the towel over his limbs. There was something inherently sexy about a hot nude guy brushing his teeth in your bathroom. It implied a level of intimacy, and that was basically all Bobby wanted. Just to settle down for a while, to feel needed. 

"You know there's a bathroom downstairs," Bobby pointed out, vigorously drying his junk. 

"It's for guests," Warren replied. "Besides all my stuff is up here."

Bobby hung his towel up on the back of the door then shoved Warren over so he could get at his hair product. Squirting a blob into his palm, he started styling as Warren climbed in the shower. "So what are the chances we get stood up for dinner again because the two love birds are too busy boning?" 

Warren laughed. "Sorry, buddy. Rictor already called. They'll be over in thirty minutes." The water turned on, and Warren continued speaking over it. "I was able to get us a reservation at the steakhouse, so put on something nice. We're celebrating our imminent success with the mission. Wear a tie."

"Wow, you must really want this whole thing to go sideways, don't you? Take that back right now."

"I don't believe in superstition," Warren assumed him as Bobby stepped into the walk-in closet.

Sorting through his neatly hung clothes, Bobby picked out a pink dress shirt, a matching plaid tie and a pair of beige chinos. He happened to know Warren had more than one _Miami Vice_ suit with him, and since he had gone through the effort of unpacking for Warren, he thought he had the right to decide that he should wear one of them. As punishment or something, though Bobby wasn't sure for who.

As Bobby was doing up his belt, there was a knock on the door. "What's the secret password?" he asked as he stared through the peephole at a visibly annoyed Rictor and his much more serene husband. 

"Just open the fucking door," Rictor replied. 

"I thought you'd be in a better mood," Bobby said, letting them in. Like him, Shatterstar was in a dress shirt and tie, while Rictor had gone the extra mile and put on a vest as well. They both had their hair up in matching messy-yet-stylish man buns. They looked like they had jumped straight off a GQ cover.

Bobby was pretty used to being the average guy in every group, but just once, he wanted more. 

Maybe Warren would loan him one of his suits, so Bobby could look less like an accountant by default.

But Bobby would probably just look like a tool. He knew he'd feel like one. 

He was only a little disappointed when Warren came down the stairs wearing something else entirely. He still looked good – he always looked good, even at his worst, he always looked good – but Bobby realized he had kinda gotten his hopes up for some bizarre reason. But whatever, it barely mattered. 

"Everyone ready?" Warren asked. "I'd hate to be late. It sounded like they were expecting to be pretty busy."

Rictor headed out first, Shatterstar close on his heels. As Bobby grabbed his key card, Warren pressed a hand into the small of his back and whispered, "I knew you loved that suit," hotly into his ear. Without another word, he pressed past Bobby, leaving him to stare at his back, covered in a white dress shirt.

* * *

Dinner was good. Warren tried to toast their impending success once or twice, but he got shouted down by the table until he switched to a general toast about health, happiness and an enjoyable vacation. They served dessert after, too, which was just great. Bobby had the cheesecake with cherry topping. 

After changing into gym clothes – uniforms were a no-no, Bobby assumed, and he preferred that they were all wearing sneakers and clothing they could move in for something like this – they met back at Rictor and Shatterstar's room since they had the supplies. Warren sat down. Bobby remained standing. 

"We have some walkie-talkies," Rictor said, laying them out on the coffee table. "And some night-vision goggles, for those of us with average levels of sight. EMF sensors, an infrared thermometer..." 

"Wow, you guys are way more prepared than we are."

"I spent a lot of money on these items," Shatterstar admitted. "Julio would like to make them worth it."

"There's nothing wrong with being frugal. That building you bought is a money pit."

"Do you need investors?" Warren asked, butting into their conversation. 

The three of them went over everything, checking to see if all the devices worked and if the batteries were charged, while Bobby opened his email to see if Kitty had responded. She had, albeit briefly: _Great. Keep looking._ He still felt bad about the night before, like maybe they should have ended it right then. What if everything went to shit tonight when the previous night everything would have been fine?

Leading was hard. Scott deserved all the vacations. For whenever he came back to life. _If_ he did. 

Bobby pushed away those thoughts and exhaled. "Okay, gather 'round, team."

They all looked up from where they were seated around the table, already huddled up. It had sounded good in his head, very leader-y. He continued on anyway because he felt like maybe it needed to be said. 

"Listen, last night. Maybe we should have ended everything right then, but we at least have visual confirmation it's out there. Shatterstar and I were sober. Warren does have a way to sober up quickly if we absolutely needed him to, and I know he wouldn't hesitate for a second. And Rictor, well... no offence, you're kinda useless here, but I'm sorry you felt like shit last night. That looked rough." 

"Hey, I'll have you know I basically solved the last mission on the power of my personality alone."

"I can confirm that," Shatterstar said. 

"Anyway," Bobby continued, ignoring them as they made heart-eyes at each other. Warren looked on, an expression on his face that Bobby had surprisingly never seen before. Bobby would have thought he'd seen all of Warren's masks by now. "I know we went over this last night, but just to reiterate the plan for those of us who were passed out: we'll split up and leverage the fact our balconies are on opposite sides of the ship. Rictor and Warren, you'll make up one team. Shatterstar will be with me." 

"Makes sense," Rictor said. "Split the guys with the super-eyeballs and the guys who can get there."

"Exactly, and Ric? Sorry, bud, but I think it's best if you stay back on the ship, in case we need you."

"Sure," Rictor said, more agreeable than Bobby had expected him to be. "I've always been upfront about the fact I'm not great on water. I can feel Mother Earth, but she's far, you know? Unless we need to move the ship and even then I can't promise I don't accidentally wipe something out with a tsunami." 

"Yeah, you're definitely on radio duty."

Warren and Rictor got up to leave. Shatterstar grabbed Rictor by the wrist and pulled him into a hug, whispering something into his ear. Both Bobby and Warren looked around the room, giving them the weak semblance of privacy. With a kiss, Rictor stepped back, still holding onto Shatterstar's hand.

"Don't let this guy get disembowelled, okay?" Rictor said with an oddly fond tone as Shatterstar smiled. 

"Uh, wasn't planning on it," Bobby replied. "Good luck, everyone. Team Sixty-Three Percent Gay, go."

"I'd like to check the math on that," Warren said, but Bobby just ignored him. He'd seen his grades in school, and he knew exactly which one of them he'd trust when it came to numbers and being right. 

It wasn't Warren.

* * *

Surveillance work was boring, always had been, but at least Shatterstar was speaking to him in multi-word sentences now. After making sure none of his questions were distracting him, Bobby asked about his swords, and if he was watching any interesting TV shows, and how exactly Dazzler was his mother.

Until then, Shatterstar hadn't looked away from the water but that earned him a brief glance. "Unless you don't want to talk about it," Bobby added quickly. "It's just that I'm pretty sure Ali's around my age, which means I'm old enough to be your father, but that doesn't make any logical sense, numbers-wise."

"My father is Longshot," Shatterstar replied with a sigh. "It is a story that involves time travel."

"Fucking time travel," Bobby said with feeling. Shatterstar just nodded and then let the conversation drop. In his head, Bobby did some quick counting and decided twelve words was a decent result. He still had a bunch of other questions for him, of course, but he knew he had to space them out wisely.

It could turn out to be a very long night. 

But it was Shatterstar who spoke again first. "Julio did not tell you this?"

"Other than waxing poetic about how much he loves you, he's kept everything else pretty close to his chest."

"Yes, he would do that." Shatterstar tilted his head slightly, softening his lines a little, and Bobby realized he could see it now. Ali's colouring, for sure, but a lot of Longshot in there, too. Being an X-Man was extremely weird sometimes. "I would like to apologize for my earlier behaviour. It was rude."

"Okay, Ric did tell me that part. Don't worry about it. I've been told I'm super intimidating."

Shatterstar smiled at the joke, and Bobby mentally fist-pumped. He'd already managed to kill a few hours, and they probably had many more to go. If it even showed up at all. Bobby hoped so. He was ready to wrap up this sub-plot so he could go back to the main attraction, aka, his super gay vacation.

* * *

Three hours later, the walkie-talkie finally crackled. Rictor's tinny voice came out. "J to S. Over."

Shatterstar picked it up and held it to his mouth. "Go for S," he replied, "over."

"Bogie spotted. W already moving. Requests back up. Over." 

"Affirmative. S and B moving out. Over."

Shatterstar swore he was agile enough to run on the ice behind Bobby, even in gym shoes. Bobby had his doubts, but it turned out he hadn't been full of shit. Bobby kept them low to the water, careful to remove all the ice behind them. As they rounded the ship, he could see Warren in the distance, wings a blot of white against the dark sky, almost like a star. He was hawkishly circling a _very_ large shadow. 

A volley of huge tentacles shot out of the water, causing Warren to veer sharply to the side to avoid them. One of them hit him anyway, a loud sickening smack to the side, and Warren shifted into Archangel, the screech of his metal wings a sound that had always made Bobby sick to his stomach. 

"Watch Warren," Bobby said under his breath. "If he does anything..."

"I will stop him if you cannot," Shatterstar replied, swords out and ready. "Approach with caution."

Bobby nodded, creating a platform of ice to surround the sea monster and give something for Shatterstar to move on. It was clearly a fucking Kraken, too, which meant Bobby had definitely lost the pool, but he reminded himself firmly that a real leader wouldn't be thinking of that right this second.

"Report. Over," Rictor said. 

Shatterstar pulled the walkie-talkie off the waistband of his basketball shorts. "I won," he told him. 

Before Shatterstar could say anything else, the tentacles flailed again. The Kraken made an inhumanly terrible sound, something between a scream and wail. Even Warren flinched, feathers fanned and ready to slice as he circled menacingly. So far he hadn't attacked, but Bobby could tell his wings wanted to.

Shatterstar had stopped where he was, a pensive look on his face. There was a third flail, tentacles smashing into his ice platform and sending Shatterstar into the sea. Not willing to allow a fourth, Bobby froze all the water clinging to the Kraken's skin. The Kraken howled again like that had hurt it. 

Shattered pulled out of the water onto a chunk of ice, swords dug in for leverage. He twisted onto the bobbing, slippery slab, somehow remaining on his feet. "Iceman, release the Kraken!" he shouted.

"Okay, I can't tell if you actually mean that or if you just watched _Clash of the Titans_ too many times." 

"Let it go," Shatterstar clarified. "But both statements are technically true."

"Yeah, no worries. I totally get it. This thing..." 

"It's frightened of us," Shatterstar replied. "This is not aggression. I would recognize aggression." 

"Okay, pull back. Give it some space. Warren," he shouted up at him, earning himself a haughty look in return, "get down here and switch back." When Warren hesitated, Bobby added with a surprisingly firm voice, "and don't make me fucking freeze you, dude. I do not have time for that sorta shit right now."

Bobby made an ice platform for Warren to land on, far enough away that he hoped it meant the Kraken wouldn't freak out again. He had no idea how to tell a sea monster they came in peace. Behind him, Warren set down softly. Knowing his gaze was fixed on Bobby's neck, all of the hairs rose on his skin. 

For one tense second, nothing happened, and then, just like that, Warren shifted back. 

"Do you still have your walkie-talkie?" Bobby asked without turning around. "Shatterstar's is toast."

"I have it," Warren said. 

"Call Rictor," Bobby said, keeping his eyes on the Kraken, which had quieted but hadn't disappeared. "Get him to locate Marco. I think this thing can communicate, and that's supposed to be his deal if I remember correctly from Kitty's notes. Who the hell knows if it'll work, but weirder things, right?" 

"It's terrified," Shatterstar said. "It does not want to be here."

Warren contacted Rictor over the walkie-talkie, explaining the plan. He flew back to get Marco, who arrived in a ballgown and covered in glitter. "Sorry, it was my night off," he said, flailing for balance when he touched the ice. Shatterstar offered his elbow like a gentleman. "So... a sentient Kraken?"

"Surprise," Bobby said, holding up his hands and wiggling his fingers. "Can you talk to it?"

Marco tilted his head and smiled. "Huh, I can." He screeched something, and the Kraken screeched back, one tentacle lifting up and pointing to the sky. Marco replied, the sound of it like nails on a chalkboard. This went on for a while until Marco filled them in. "Well, it's not from Earth. It fell here."

"So it's a Space Kraken?" Bobby asked, just to clarify for his own sake. 

"Yeah, and it's not a fan of gravity at all, though it really likes the lights on the ship and the seafood."

"Well, I'm glad its trip hasn't been a total bust. Who wants to call Kitty and explain this?"

"You're technically the leader," Warren pointed out, and Bobby sighed. Fucking technicalities as usual.


	5. The Fourth Day

The Shi'ar convoy arrived before dawn, cloaked. They had remained with the Kraken all night, Marco translating when it felt like talking. Like them, it was exhausted and just wanted to go home to sleep. At one point, Warren had flown back and grabbed Rictor because it was a dick move to leave him on the ship, and he arrived with an armful of blankets so they could at least lounge comfortably on the ice.

Bobby felt almost delirious with fatigue. He was way too old to be pulling all-nighters. 

They watched as the Space Kraken was loaded up. Shaking with the effort, Bobby moved them back to the ship. The sun was only beginning to rise over the horizon as they went their separate ways. "The rooms are comped for the week, so just enjoy yourselves now," Marco said. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem," Bobby replied. "Thanks for translating."

"Hey, it's what I do," Marco said, wandering off with his heels in his hand, still very glittery.

"Yeah, we're gonna go fall into bed," Rictor said with a yawn. Shatterstar had his face pressed into Rictor's hair, arms around Rictor's waist. They were both swaying. "We're having dinner tonight with some friends of ours from last year, if you wanna join us. You'll like them. They're Canadian."

"Sure, we'll be there," Bobby said, speaking on behalf him and Warren, who hadn't been particularly chatty since the Archangel thing. Bobby wished he could say he didn't know what the big deal was, but he probably knew best just what Warren could do with those wings. At least nothing bad had happened.

They walked in silence back to the room, their fingers occasionally brushing in the narrow corridor. 

Bobby almost moaned with relief when he stepped into the room. He felt like he could sleep for days.

He lifted his arms in victory when he reached the top of the stairs, using that as the momentum he needed to pull his shirt off. For once in his life, he pulled a Warren and just tossed it randomly. Five more steps, and he had his shorts off, kicking them into the corner. And then he removed his underwear.

At Warren's look, Bobby shrugged. "We had a deal, didn't we?"

"You said it was a bad idea."

"When has that ever stopped me?" Bobby climbed onto the bed and settled down in the mountain of pillows, the cotton sheets cool against his skin. He glanced over at Warren, who still hadn't moved. "I am _exhausted_ , dude. I really need to sleep. Are you coming or are you gonna invoke your monkey? " 

"It's a fruit," Warren said. "I don't even know what you think you're referring to."

Bobby didn't respond, the bed too comfortable and inviting. The mattress dipped as Warren got onto it, and Bobby tried to keep breathing. He was going to feel like a real dork if Warren still had his underwear on. The seconds seemed to stretch on forever until Warren pressed against him, naked. 

Completely, totally, utterly naked. 

"Okay?" Warren asked, warm in his ear, squeezing Bobby's bare hip. 

"Yeah," Bobby replied, feeling Warren shift a little, getting more comfortable. Warren wasn't all that much taller than he was, a couple inches at best, and normally they fit together really well. But right at that moment, Bobby realized he'd made a grave miscalculation. "But one small thing. Between your morning wood issue and my ill-positioned asshole..." he trailed off, letting Warren fill in the blanks. 

"Oh," Warren said. For the time all night, he laughed. "Wow, we did not think this through at all."

"Nope," Bobby agreed, feeling his own laugh bubble out of him. He felt a little hysterical, but that was probably just his bone-deep exhaustion. "Wanna use our out clause? Or I could just turn around. You wanted intimacy, and there's nothing more intimate than two dudes squishing their junk on each other."

The hand returned to Bobby's naked hip and gave him a gentle push. Bobby rolled onto his back. They had never actually snuggled this way – Bobby had always assumed this was the gayer option, two cocks instead of one, which looking back was plainly ridiculous – and he didn't know what to expect.

Warren folded over him, a thigh lifting to hook over Bobby's leg, and the soft flesh of his dick pressed against Bobby's hip. Warren's head came to rest on the pillow above Bobby's shoulder, their faces inches apart. "Good?" he asked, laying one of his hands flat against Bobby's belly. "Or is it too much?"

"It'll work," Bobby said. His arm was probably going to fall asleep, but he'd take one for the team there. 

He thought he'd stay awake forever, the thrill of Warren's naked body the ultimate distraction, but he fell asleep almost immediately, Warren's breath on his cheek, weirdly minty despite the night they'd had.

* * *

Bobby woke up alone. He checked the time, not the least bit surprised to see it was almost noon. With a groan, feeling too damn old for _everything_ , he went into the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet, he checked his email, just to confirm there had been no complications, but the Space Kraken was on its way home. 

He washed his hands. He brushed his teeth. He didn't bother to get dressed. 

Warren was out on the balcony in the sun, also naked. He had a cup of coffee in his hands. Another one – heavy on the milk, exactly as Bobby liked it – sat steaming on the table. At Bobby's tip of the head, Warren smiled. "It's yours. I can tell when you're about to wake up. I haven't been up that long either." 

They were back in port again, though their balcony was on the side of the ship facing out onto the water. Whatever plans Bobby might have had for the day, he abandoned, but he thought about maybe going onshore to walk around and grab some souvenirs for his folks before the cruise set sail again. 

"Sleep all right?" Bobby asked pleasantly. 

"Like a baby," Warren confirmed. He smiled. "I'm not the only one with a morning wood problem."

"What's a little jousting between friends, am I right?" Bobby replied with a grin, flushing faintly. Warren snorted into his coffee cup. Not a hint of a blush on him, Bobby noticed. Warren was the coolest cucumber he knew. He added, keeping his tone light, "you were a bit upset last night."

Warren shrugged. "It is what it is," he said. "Pissed at myself for switching as fast as I did."

"You got hit," Bobby pointed out. "Everything okay now?"

Warren lifted an arm and drew back his wing. The skin looked faintly pink, as if Warren had been sitting in the tub just a bit too long, but Bobby couldn't see even a hint of a bruise. "It seems to have healed okay," Warren said, running his knuckles over the tender flesh. "Doesn't even hurt anymore." 

"That's good."

"Remind me to make sure I put sunscreen on, though. I don't know if any of that is new skin."

"I should do that," Bobby said, but he didn't make any move for the bottle on the table. 

"You were pretty good last night," Warren said, taking another sip of his coffee. "Very leader-like." 

"Hey, by my standards, this mission was a total success. The Kraken is on its way home, you didn't do anything you'll regret, and yeah, the legacy of the Space Kraken is gonna be a little hard to live down, but whatever. I think it turned out well." Warren snorted again, and Bobby gave him another grin. 

They lay there for a while, enjoying the sunshine and the breeze. Bobby finished his coffee, caffeine blissfully coursing through his system. Scratching a hand across his belly, he noticed a little speck of something on his skin, and he flicked it off. His eyes naturally continued down to his own soft cock. 

"Oh man," Bobby said suddenly, brushing his thumb over it. "I think I have a sunburn on my dick."

Warren leaned over, examining the penis in question, and cackled. "You definitely do," he said.

"This is your fault," Bobby replied with a groan. "You and your clothing-optional balcony nonsense."

"You did that on your own, buddy." Warren sat back, putting his coffee mug on the ground. "And put some sunscreen on it before it gets any worse," he added, lifting his chin in the direction of the bottle. 

Bobby reached over to grab it, but he hesitated when it came to applying it. 

Warren noticed the pause immediately. "Too close to circle jerking for your liking?" he asked blandly, blue eyes shifting to look at Bobby's cock briefly. Bobby groaned inwardly when it plumped up a bit, intrigued by the attention. It had a mind of its own sometimes. "You never whacked it with friends?"

"Warren, you know who my friends are. Did we ever 'whack' it together?"

"Not that I remember," Warren replied. "I haven't actually done it either."

Bobby squirted some lotion into his hand as his sensibilities overtook his hesitation. He _really_ did not want it to get worse. "I find that hard to believe."

"I had a lot of weird body changes going on, most of them above the waist. I basically lost every friend I ever had when I hit puberty. Other than Cam." Warren shook his head, pushing away that particularly horrific memory. "Anyway, until I joined the X-Men, I was pretty much flying solo. Pun intended."

"It was a good one," Bobby admitted. He dabbed a couple dots of sunscreen along his cock, trying to make the contact minimal, but it really wasn't helping that Warren was openly watching him. Bobby could practically see the gears in his brain turning. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. 

"Do you want to try it?"

"Try what?" Bobby said. It came out more like a croak as he began to lose the battle with his dick. 

"Jerking off together," Warren replied. "For the experience."

Bobby looked over to Warren, to gauge how much he was busting Bobby's balls right then, but he looked serious. Bobby couldn't pretend he wasn't interested. His spotted dick was impossible to ignore at that point, erect enough to be beyond the point of deniability. But one glance at Warren confirmed he wasn't alone, which was.... something. It was certainly something. Exhibitionism sure was a thing. 

He was sure there were a bunch of very good reasons not to do this, but he couldn't think of a single one. 

"Yeah, okay," Bobby said. "For the experience."

"Great," Warren replied, smiling handsomely. 

Bobby was a little unsure if he could use sunscreen to jerk off with or not – he'd learned to careful through years of trial and error, having discovered his various orifices hated slippery shit that stung – so he wiped most of it off on his lower legs, resolving not to forget his penis in his post-orgasm bliss. 

Laying back, Bobby put his hand on his dick and held it there, feeling it harden as he waited for Warren to go first. It didn't take him long to start, just one wet lick over his palm and then off he went. Bobby didn't even bother not to watch Warren as he pulled the circle of his fingers up and down his shaft. 

He tried to be analytical about it. Cut, like Bobby was. About the same size, even hard. No pubes to speak of, which was such a disappointment, but whatever. His dick still looked nice. Touchable, suckable, _definitely_ fuckable. Bobby wondered, idly, what Warren tasted like. He had a good diet. 

"Guy who shoots the farthest wins," Warren said suddenly, breaking through Bobby's analysis. 

"You're on." Bobby usually lost these types of random Warren bets, but he felt confident about this one.

The movement of Warren's hand was hypnotic. He made these little breathy noises, too, through slightly parted lips, partially obscured by his hair as it fell over his face, framing his head like a halo. And the roll of his hips, how he fucked into his own fingers, that was a nice little detail that Bobby could add to the spank-bank when the nameless porn stars on the screen weren't quite doing it for him. 

Bobby started moving his hand faster, cock twitching between his fingers, balls drawn up tight. And yeah, Warren was watching him, eyelids at half-mast, crystal blue gaze fixed on Bobby's cock. Bobby didn't care if he came first. It practically felt inevitable. But there was no way Warren wanted this more, no way anybody had ever wanted Warren like Bobby did. His orgasm had _years_ of desire behind it.

Bobby tipped back his head and came with a low groan, one heel digging into the recliner. 

He looked over at Warren, who met his gaze, a weird little smirk at the corners of his mouth that he bit away as he came, teeth dug into his bottom lip. Of course he'd have a crazy hot O face. Bobby would have been disappointed otherwise. As Warren's breathing began to slow, Bobby struggled to look away.

"Who won?" Warren asked softly, tipping his head in Bobby's direction, grinning easily. 

Bobby glanced over at the outcome, impressed despite himself that they'd both shot so straight. It was closer than he expected, but the results were undeniable. "Me," he replied. It felt like a hollow victory.

* * *

They cleaned up the balcony then headed back in for showers and clothes. There was no lingering weirdness, which Bobby hoped meant this was now on the table. A casual, sex-adjacent buddy activity with one of his best friends that had felt pretty darn great. He was proud of himself. This was progress.

He couldn't really imagine doing that with Hank or Scott or Jean, but whatever. Warren was different. 

They stopped by the buffet for a quick late lunch, keeping it light. Bobby was starving, but he reminded himself they had agreed to dinner, and just because something was free didn't mean he had to eat until it hurt. He still remembered that fucking hamburger and how his guts had been in knots for hours after.

"I think I'm gonna go souvenir shopping," Bobby said over his noodles. "Take a walk, look around."

"Mind if I join you?" Warren asked. 

"Duh. No. You're my vacation buddy. I just didn't know if you wanted more time by the pool."

"Our vacation isn't even half done yet," Warren replied. "I have plenty of time for all of that later."

"Man, we finished that mission quick." Bobby reached for his salad. He really hadn't had vegetables for a few days, so he'd get them now, even if his body was howling for carbs, sugar and fat. "We beat Ric and Shatterstar's previous record by fifty percent. Next year, we should be able to get it done in a day."

"It's good to have goals," Warren said, picking at his plate of fruit. He sure seemed to like pineapple.

After finishing up, they headed outside so Bobby could look for something for his parents, just to prove he hadn't spent the entire time in some sort of gay bacchanalian orgy. He shouldn't have even told them he was going, but he liked to give them a heads up when he disappeared for extended periods of time. 

Bobby sighed. 

He loved his parents, but he didn't know what to do with them. 

Longshot and Dazzler were probably more supportive. That revelation still blew his mind. 

They roamed the streets for half an hour, going into a few stores and stopping at various street vendors. Bobby was a bad gift-giver at the best of times, but this was a lot of pressure. He just wanted something nice that his mother might actually wear and that his father would put in his den. It sounded so easy. 

"What are you working yourself up over?" Warren asked, looking at a pair of pink dangly earrings. 

"I'm a failure of a son who can't even do buying souvenirs for his parents right."

"What's the criteria?"

"I'm basically aiming for not gay and not overly stylish because that would _also_ be gay."

"You're the least stylish person I have ever met," Warren replied, picking up another pair of earrings. 

"I know, right?" Bobby said, peering at a necklace that looked interesting, but it was a bit too rainbow-y. Maybe a nice scarf, he thought, in blues and greens, like the scenery. He wondered if paperweights were still in fashion before glancing at the earrings Warren was agonizing over. "Who are those for?" 

"Betsy," Warren replied. 

Bobby's stomach did something pretty awful at that, lunch turning over in his belly as if someone had punched him. "Oh, are you back together?" he asked with a pleasantness he most certainly did not feel. 

"I'll take them both," Warren said to the women working the stall. He handed over a stack of bills. "And no, we're not back together." Warren sighed deeply, giving Bobby a harsh look, but Bobby stood his ground, even though he felt bad for another reason now. "That's done, Bobby. Forever. It's just... done."

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't know. My big mouth," he added, scrubbing a hand through his hair. 

Warren sighed again, but this time it lacked any heat at all. "First of all, if I was seeing anyone, this" – he gestured between them, side to side and up and down – "would not be happening to this degree. Second... you don't come back from what happened. With the Life Seed. With all she had to do for me afterwards. I own her more than I know how to repay, so I am buying her some nice earrings instead." 

"They are really nice," Bobby agreed. The woman handed Warren a paper bag, which he took with a pleasant thanks. "Do you want to pick out my presents, too? They like you a lot more than me anyway." 

Warren sighed for a third time, the most pitying of them all. "You're hopeless."

"I know," Bobby said. 

Warren squeezed the back of his neck before marching off like a man on a mission. Bobby, with the whisper of Warren's fingers still on his skin, looked after him. _Ah, shit_ , Bobby thought, pressing his palm to his chest. He took a moment to centre himself again before taking off after him.

* * *

After Warren found him some amazing, totally straight gifts, they walked around a bit longer, exploring and talking when they felt like it, which wasn't often at all. Usually, Bobby felt compelled to fill the silence with noise but not this time. His hand felt itchy, like it wanted to be held, but he ignored it. 

Bobby couldn't be trusted to know what he wanted. That was how he'd gotten into this mess to begin with.

Back on the ship, they got drinks out by the pool and sat on the upper deck to enjoy them. Warren actually drank his, exchanging dainty sips for hearty gulps. Warren had been a lush for as long as Bobby had known him. He'd been the first to sneak booze into their parties and the first to ever drink _with_ Bobby, who had inevitably ended up puking outside in the bushes while Warren laughed at him. 

At least until he'd started throwing up, too. Hank had found them asleep on the grass the next morning. 

"Pace yourself, dude," Bobby warned. "We have a long night ahead of us. I'm determined to dance."

Warren gave him a look. "Like you're one to talk," he replied, flicking some of the condensation off his glass in Bobby's direction. Bobby just froze it where it was, tiny shards of ice hanging in mid-air. "I'm ready to get this vacation started. You should see what I'm wearing tonight. You are going to love it."

"Can I have a hint?" Bobby asked, instantly intrigued. He hoped it was skimpy. 

Warren sucked his cherry into his mouth. "No," he said with a satisfied smile. "It's a surprise."

"Tease," Bobby chided. Warren's smile stretched into a grin, the cherry stem still between his teeth.

* * *

Warren wore one of his _Miami Vice_ suits for dinner. The very same one, Bobby noted idly, that Bobby had picked out for him the night before. He looked handsome. More handsome than usual. Bobby would have assumed suits to be the ultimate hassle for Warren, who had to get everything altered or tailor-made to compensate for the wings. He probably knew how good he looked in them.

It was the shoulders, Bobby decided. Warren had really great shoulders. 

"Ready?" Warren asked, fastening what looked to be a very expensive watch around his wrist. 

"Lead the way," Bobby said, not just because he liked how Warren's ass looked in linen pants. 

They arrived at the restaurant to find Rictor and Shatterstar already there, talking to an older couple who looked to be in their 70s. It took introductions for Bobby to realize they _were_ the Canadian friends. The shorter of the two, Cyril, took one look at them and said, "my, and such strapping young lads, too."

Bobby went pink with pleasure. No one had ever called him strapping before. He usually wasn't tall enough for that. 

They were seated at one of the large, round tables in the centre of the room. For once, Bobby let other people do the talking. Every one of his elementary school teachers would have been so proud. Cyril and Alain kept fondly referring to Rictor and Shatterstar as the newlyweds, like it was a shared inside joke. They had also been together for fifty-six years, which Bobby's tiny brain could not fathom.

"Wow, that's amazing. I haven't had a relationship last longer than fifteen months," Bobby blurted out. He and Opal had just barely made it beyond the year mark, hanging on for another few months before finally fizzling out. It had fallen apart for the obvious reason, even if he hadn't understood it at the time.

Sometimes he thought about calling her up and apologizing for just how disinterested he'd been in bed. 

Alain folded a palm over his hand and squeezed. "Ah, you're young. It can't be forced."

In his heart, he knew that, but still. Bobby just sighed and nodded. Mercifully, the conversation shifted away from the topic of relationships to other things, like the weather and sports. Warren had always claimed that was his weapon of choice when it came to small talk. Weather or sports, most people had opinions about one or the other. Bobby had no idea if Warren had ever even been to a hockey game.

Dinner was nice. If anyone noticed Bobby's mood, they were too polite to mention it. And it was good for him to see a gay couple happy and in love, even after so many decades. When he'd first come out, Bobby had basically lived at Barnes & Noble, buying every book he could find to learn his history. His Netflix list was extremely gay. But this felt different somehow, less like words on a page and more...

Real. It wasn't a perfect analogy, but that was the closest word Bobby could find to explain to describe this feeling that had plagued him all dinner. Cyril and Alain, Rictor and Shatterstar, Jean Paul and Kyle. 

Bobby just wanted that realness for himself. He'd lived so much of his life feeling like a fraud. 

Still did sometimes. And it wasn't just limited to his personal life. 

Mid-way through dinner, Warren put his hand on the back of Bobby's neck, warm and steadying. He kept it there for a long time, thumb sweeping along the edge of Bobby's hairline as he talked. It turned out that Warren knew an absurd amount about the Montreal Canadiens. He was just full of surprises.

* * *

Bobby's weird mood lasted for exactly as long as it took for Warren to come out dressed in his outfit for the night. They'd gone back to the room after dinner with Rictor and Shatterstar for a little pre-drinking, and then those two had gotten very grabby with each other and excused themselves to 'get dressed'. 

"Is that what the cool kids are calling it these days?" he asked as they tumbled out of the room. Bobby had no idea why they even bothered with euphemisms. They'd get dressed eventually, he supposed. 

Warren locked himself in the bathroom as Bobby changed on the other side of the door. Since the theme of the evening was simply the colour white and white tended to wash him out when he wasn't covered in, like, snow, he'd gone for nice and simple. A pair of white leather shorts, white combat boots and a white leather chest harness with a silver ring in the middle that really made his pecs stand out.

Staring in the mirror, he flicked at his nipples, imagining how that would feel if they were pierced.

"You'd look good with some metal in them," Warren said from behind him. 

Flushing at being caught, Bobby resisted the urge to cover them. He scoffed. "Yeah, right. Could you imagine? It'd be totally obvious. I'd have to wear a uniform with, like, chest armour. No, thanks."

"Last I heard, we didn't have a dress code," Warren replied, his reflection stepping into the mirror. At first, all Bobby saw was skin, specifically the bare flesh along Warren's sides and hips. Some hysterical part of him imagined Warren at the party, completely naked, and he lost a few brain cells as a result. 

The reality was almost worse, even though all the naughty bits were covered up. Just straps of stretchy fabric, twisted around smooth skin, the lean lines of his beautiful body fully accentuated. Warren's body was made for flying under the power of wings, and as a result, his physique was unlike any Bobby had ever seen on another human being. Even that moody Guthrie with the guitar hadn't looked like this. 

"How did you even get into that?" Bobby asked, struggling to keep his voice from cracking.

"It took a little imagination," Warren said, pushing Bobby away from the mirror. "How does it look?"

"Good," Bobby croaked, the understatement of the century. Bobby thanked his past self for the leather shorts, even if his dick was basically being crushed by them, as Warren twisted a little, changing the angle in the mirror to check out his own ass. A good percentage of ass cheek was completely revealed.

But not all of it and – in Bobby's completely unbiased opinion, of course – not enough of it. The urge to fall to his knees and hook a hand into the thicker piece of fabric between Warren's legs was almost overwhelming. Just one quick easy pull, and his dick would be completely out, perfect for sucking on.

Bobby loved giving blowjobs. He was good at it, and his partners were always appreciative. 

He just didn't know if _Warren_ would be and that thought was enough to cool his cock down a bit.

Not much, but Bobby would take whatever he could get before he jizzed in his shorts like a noob. 

"Was I right or was I right?" Warren asked, smoothing a hand down his partially-revealed abs. 

Bobby briefly considered answering, but he decided it had mostly been rhetorical. Besides, he didn't know how to say anything without also revealing how wrecked he was. He could tell by Warren's self-satisfied grin in the mirror that he knew exactly what he had done to Bobby, even without words. 

"I told you," Warren said, hooking a finger into Bobby's o-ring and giving him a tug. "You love it."

"The fact you know exactly how hot you are is the most annoying thing about you," Bobby grumbled.

Warren just smiled, preening like the fucking peacock he was, and Bobby exhaled. He needed a drink.

* * *

Out on deck, he felt a little better. Clear-headed, able to actually breathe. They lined up for drinks immediately, Bobby standing behind Warren and running interference for his wings. He tried not to look down at his ass, but he found his resolve slipping a few times. The next guy in the line made a face of sympathy, which was so needed and so validating. Yes, not smoothing his hand over that perfect buttock _was_ the hardest thing Bobby had ever done, thank you very much. He deserved a medal.

Drinks in hand, they made their way into the crowd as a new song came on. There was a surge in the atmosphere, everyone around them singing their hearts out. Warren grinned at him, and Bobby grinned back. He could tell Warren had no idea which song it was either. In their defence, they had spent their late teens and twenties fighting bad guys and saving the world, and the Blackbird hadn't had a radio.

Bobby wasn't intentionally trying to dance with Warren. He was actually trying to avoid him, but he kept coming into Bobby's orbit, and it just kinda... kept happening. Like him, Warren loved dancing, and like him, he was terrible at it. It had never mattered. Neither of them could resist a dance floor. 

Bobby danced until his drink was empty. He leaned into Warren and shouted, "do you want another?"

"Sure," Warren said, his fingers sliding over Bobby's waist, holding him close. "Surprise me."

"I will," Bobby replied, plucking Warren's empty cup out of his hand. "Be right back."

Bobby pushed through the crowd, the music pulsing through his veins. The line was even longer, and he got to chatting with the guys around him, tipsy enough that he was almost smooth. He particularly hit it off with a bearded guy in glasses, tall enough that Bobby had to look up to speak with him. His broad chest was covered in thick dark hair, and Bobby could feel himself flushing all the way down. 

"Darren," the guy shouted, leaning into his space, all broad shoulders and thick hair. 

"Bobby," he yelled back. "Hi."

"Hi," Darren said. 

They chatted for the rest of the line-up. Normally, Bobby wouldn't have thought twice about seeing if this guy was interested in dancing for a bit, seeing where the night took them and inevitably ending up on his dick in one way or the other. But he could see Warren in the distance, dancing like an utter dork. 

Even if Warren didn't care if Bobby hooked up with someone, Bobby cared. He cared too much.

"It was nice to meet you," Bobby said once he had his drinks. He added, "I'm sorry. You're gorgeous."

Darren smiled. "Hey, don't worry about it," he replied. "It was great to meet you. See you around?" 

"Sure," Bobby said easily, laughing at himself once he was away from the bar. He squeezed his way through the throng of dancing people, Warren's wings acting like a beacon, leading him ever closer. 

Warren had definitely been right about one thing today. 

Bobby _was_ hopeless.

* * *

They danced and drank for hours, trying to pace themselves, but this was the first night that Bobby really felt free. Warren was clearly feeling it, the weight on his shoulders lifted, at least for tonight. After too many drinks, Bobby finally had to excuse himself for a potty break before he burst.

"Gotta piss," he yelled in Warren's ear, a hand pressed to Warren's bare stomach. "I'll be back."

"I'll be here," Warren said. "And if you think of it, more drinks!" 

Bobby stumbled off, swaying with the music, feeling it in his chest. There was a line for the bathroom, but it moved quickly, and he exhaled blissfully when he finally got to the urinal. He washed his hands then headed back onto the deck. He caught sight of Rictor and Shatterstar on one of the deck chairs, Shatterstar sitting across Rictor's lap, arm looped around him, murmuring into his ear as Rictor smiled.

"Hey, come over here!" Rictor shouted when he saw him. Shatterstar said something to him and he added, "please!" 

Bobby rolled his eyes, but he went over anyway. "Yeah?"

Rictor paused, and Shatterstar poked him in the side, through the mesh of his shirt. "Okay, _Dios_ , hold on," Rictor said, speaking to Shatterstar, who looked completely wasted. There was a mountain of empty cups at their feet. "So, like, sorry if this is crossing the bounds of our friendship or whatever, but we're hitting up a beach tomorrow. A nude one. If you wanted to come. Unless this is super weird."

"How drunk are you?" Bobby asked, laughing. 

"Pretty fucking drunk," Rictor admitted ruefully. "But I was gonna ask when I was sober, too."

"I'll talk to Warren. He's the one with the most to lose if any dick pics get out."

"The rules clearly state no cameras," Shatterstar said. "I will battle anyone who disobeys."

Bobby glanced at Rictor, trying to get a sense of how literal Shatterstar was being, but he was too busy gnawing on his husband's shoulder and making heart eyes at him. "Okay, pencil us in, tentatively. Though, between us, I'm pretty sure this is exactly up Warren's alley. I'll leave you guys to your canoodling."

"Thank you," Shatterstar said. 

Bobby grabbed more drinks, bringing them back to Warren, who had two guys dancing on him. He looked like he was in heaven with all the attention, but as Bobby approached, the guys backed off and started dancing on each other instead. Warren eagerly accepted his drink. His hair was wet with sweat. 

"You read my mind," Warren breathed, lips pressed right up to Bobby's ear. Bobby expected him to pull back immediately, but he stayed in Bobby's space. From right up close, Bobby watched as Warren smiled suddenly. "Do you know how hot you look tonight?" he asked, palming Bobby's lower back. 

Whatever Bobby meant to say – and he had zero idea what that was going to be, because Warren had kinda left him speechless – was knocked out of him by a sudden flail behind him. His drink sloshed over his hand and down his arm, staining his shorts. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" the dude hollered. 

"Don't worry about it," Bobby told him, patting his back. "Shit happens."

"Do you want to head back to the room?" Warren asked, hand curved around Bobby's elbow. 

Bobby nodded. 

They took their drinks – or what was left of them – back to their stateroom, squeezing their way through the halls. Warren kept close behind him. Once Bobby unlocked the door, Warren plopped down on the couch as Bobby went into the guest bathroom and grabbed a towel. He wet it in the sink. 

Wiping himself down, he came back in the room, expecting Warren to be passed out, but he was still awake, reclined on the couch, wings spilling everywhere. The bits of him not covered by those useless white straps glistened with perspiration. Warren was one of those guys who shone when he sweat.

It was so fucking annoying. 

Bobby wet his lips, eyes fixed on Warren's gorgeous body, again grateful he had worn leather.

The room was silent except for the sounds of their breathing, far enough from the party that not even the thump of the bass was audible. Warren's fingers moved idly over his belly, sweeping back and forth. Bobby saw the moment his dick started to harden, the fabric around it going taut against his skin. 

Bobby licked his lips again, watching as Warren's hand slid under the edge of the fabric, guiding his cock out from under it. On some level, he was impressed Warren could even get it up, but it wasn't like his own dick wasn't pushing through the boozy haze and somehow finding a way to maintain a hard-on.

Warren started stroking himself, shifting his gaze to Bobby's face. He gave Bobby a crooked smile.

"Do you want some privacy?" Bobby heard himself asking over the roar in his own ears. 

"Fuck no," Warren replied, fist still working over his cock, his legs loose and open. 

Bobby wanted to be on his knees between them, the carpet rough against his skin. He wanted to put his mouth over the head of his dick, tasting Warren's pre-come on his tongue. He wanted to know what sounds Warren would make when he sucked him. He just _wanted_ like he never wanted anything before.

Pressing his hand over his cock, Bobby held it there, just pressure, nothing more. 

He was going to come anyway, but he wanted to extend the moment. He wanted to memorize it.

Warren's hand moved faster, sliding easily over his slick skin. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, exposing an infinitely kissable throat. Bobby held his breath as he imagined kissing over it, licking the salt of his flesh before marking it with lips, so people would know who he belonged to. 

With a breathy gasp, Warren came all over his chest and belly, yet more lines on his body that barely covered anything. If Bobby had been braver, he would have stood over him and added to the mess, mixing their come on Warren's lustrous skin. Instead, he came in his shorts, hand barely moving at all. 

Bobby was still trying to get his shit together when Warren stood, picking up the damp towel that Bobby had left on the table. Wiping his come off, Warren handed the towel to Bobby then shrugged out of the strappy outfit, flinging it off in the direction of the kitchenette. "Coming to bed?" Warren asked. 

"Yeah," Bobby said, forcing his wobbly legs to move. He unsnapped his harness with his free hand, tossing it alongside Warren's, then unzipped his shorts and pulled them off, keenly aware of the fact that he was still holding onto the towel, Warren's jizz and all, and that Warren was watching him do it. 

"So this might be a weird time to mention this," Bobby said as he dragged the towel over his dick and balls, "but Rictor and Shatterstar wanted to know if we were up for hitting a nude beach tomorrow."

"Oh, I saw that in the pamphlet," Warren replied. "Sounds like a fun time to me."

"Yeah," Bobby agreed faintly, lobbing the soiled towel into the pile with the rest of their clothes. 

Without saying another word, they headed upstairs. Bobby peed as Warren stood there, watching, then washed his hands as Warren did the same, wings drooping behind him. They both drank two glasses of water before stumbling back into the bedroom, climbing into bed naked, no negotiation needed tonight.


	6. The Fifth Day

Bobby woke up with his cheek pressed to the space between Warren's wings. If the puddle was any indication, he'd been drooling profusely for quite some time. Blearily, he pushed himself up and away from Warren, grateful that he'd been far enough down Warren's body that his cock had taken refuge between his parted thighs and not anywhere higher. He had never ended up on Warren like that before.

"Why is my back so wet?" Warren asked, voice muffled by his pillow.

"Dude, some questions are better left unanswered," Bobby replied, patting at his calf. 

Warren lifted his head, turning back to look at him. "Oh, wow. Did you come on me?"

"What? _No_ ," Bobby said, almost shouting. His head throbbed with the sudden noise, and he felt heat rush through him. "Oh my god, dude, I just drooled on you. A lot of drool," he added, grabbing the corner of the blanket and trying to sop some of it up. "It's your fault for being so comfortable."

Warren just groaned, burrowing into the bedding. Having done the best he could, Bobby got up and wobbled into the bathroom, turning on the tap and sticking his head under it. He was so thirsty. He'd wasted all of his moisture on Warren's ungrateful skin. It felt like he'd been munching sawdust all night.

While he had his face in the sink, Warren came in and peed. He swatted Bobby's bare butt on the way to the shower and then turned it on and stepped into it. Bobby opened up the bottle of Tylenol and shook four out. He swallowed two, chasing them down with a gulp of water then went over to Warren. 

"Dude, here," Bobby said, giving him the remaining two pills and the half-empty glass. 

"You are the absolute best," Warren told him, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing lightly. 

Bobby made a faint noise of agreement – he was, in fact, the absolute best, despite what this hangover was trying to tell him – then stumbled over to the toilet, sitting down in order to better contemplate his poor life choices. He sat there long after he was done peeing, hunched over and regretting everything. 

"Chin up, buddy," Warren said, patting him on the head. "We have a long day ahead of ourselves."

"I just need some food," Bobby insisted as he pushed to a stand, "and all the water in the sea."

"And some coffee," Warren added, smearing shaving cream all over his cheeks and jaw. "And bacon."

Bacon sounded good. Bacon sounded like the best. As his stomach rumbled, Bobby climbed into the shower, letting the water beat down on his face. He didn't know if he was allowed to drink it or not, but he was going for it anyway. A terrible thought occurred to him. "Oh, man, are we too old to party?"

"We're just out of practice."

"Okay, good," Bobby said, scrubbing a hand over his face blearily. "Just making sure."

* * *

After coffee, water and food, he began to feel almost human again. Warren even let Bobby steal some of his bacon without, like, demanding his firstborn child in payment. They shared a plate of fruit – Warren's – and a plate of donuts – Bobby's. One of the attendants put a carafe of coffee on the table, and the only reason Bobby didn't drink directly from it was that he had _some_ manners.

Rictor and Shatterstar showed up eventually, Rictor making some sort of awkward hand movement that Bobby assumed was a wave. Once they'd made the rounds at the buffet station, they joined him and Warren at their table. Which was fine, except now he had even more competition for delicious caffeine.

"Good morning," Shatterstar said pleasantly, clearly the only one not nursing a massive hangover. 

Rictor flopped down into his seat. Warren, the traitor, reached over and filled up his coffee mug. "It's so annoying being married to someone with a healing factor. You had so much more to drink than me."

"Genetics can be cruel," Shatterstar said with hilarious sincerity, patting Rictor's back. Rictor just grumbled into his waffles, but Shatterstar's hand lingered there for a moment, stroking over his neck.

Plastering a smile on his face and fighting that lingering sense of envy that kept trying to harsh his vibe, Bobby focussed on his eggs. Warren got up once, returning a few minutes later with more bacon. He pushed the plate towards Bobby in the universal symbol of bacon sharing, so that was a nice surprise.

Warren chuckled abruptly. "We better all wake up if we're going to enjoy ourselves today."

"I will have a good time regardless," Shatterstar assured him. 

"So fucking annoying," Rictor muttered, grinning when Shatterstar looped an arm over his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his temple. "It's gonna be awesome if all I end up doing is napping. Just don't let me drink anything boozy before noon. Even if it's served in a fruit and comes with, like, an umbrella."

"There's zero chance I can resist something like that," Bobby admitted. "Even if I feel like crap."

Warren grinned. "Better start sucking back more water then."

"What I need is more coffee, but somebody" – he glared at Rictor, who gave him the finger between bites of waffle – "hogged it all. And somebody else" – this time he stared at Warren, who tilted his head questioningly – "hasn't been charming the server well enough that we've been given another refill."

"I just haven't tried hard enough yet," Warren told him. "Give me another minute. No, thirty seconds."

"Finally a use for that pretty face," Bobby mumbled, dodging the finger Warren poked at his belly. 

Within seconds, the attendant came by with another jug of coffee. Bobby resisted the urge to cradle it to his chest. The attendant stayed for another five minutes as Warren learned everything about him, smiling beatifically the entire time. Bobby shook his head. Another victim of the Worthington charm.

* * *

After breakfast, they went back to their respective rooms to pack for the day. Bobby tossed in every bottle of sunscreen he had brought as well as some sunglasses, a hat, and a sarong he had purchased but never actually intended to wear. He grabbed two of the beach towels and stuffed them into his bag.

"You need me to carry anything?" Bobby asked.

"Well, if you're offering," Warren replied, holding out his stuff. "I'll get the water."

"Grab some snacks, too," Bobby said, rearranging his bag to fit all of Warren's junk in there, already intensely regretting his offer. He tucked in the second unlikely-to-ever-be-worn sarong he'd purchased, just in case. "You paid for these packs of nuts, and by god, we are going to eat every last one of them." 

They met Rictor and Shatterstar back in the lobby then headed out to grab a taxi. The driver did not blink when Warren told him where they wanted to go. Warren sat up front, chatting amiably the entire time, enjoying his space. With Rictor squeezed in between Bobby and Shatterstar, it was a tight fit in the back. 

Once they arrived, Rictor knew exactly where they were going, so they all followed him. It seemed like everyone was lounging around in swimsuits until suddenly they weren't. Bobby's first thought was, _I am gonna get so fucking sunburned_. He suddenly wondered if he had brought enough sunscreen.

They found a space on the sand with ample room around them. Bobby unrolled the beach towels as Warren started undressing beside him. Shatterstar was equally half-naked as Rictor got them all settled. Once everything was laid out, Bobby tugged his shirt off then shoved his shorts and underwear down.

"I can see you turning red already," Warren said, grabbing one of the bottles of sunscreen. 

"Speaking of cruel genetics," Bobby replied, shivering a bit when Warren's hands started smoothing over Bobby's back. He was ruthlessly methodical, rubbing the lotion in with brisk swipes. He even tucked his fingers into the bend of Bobby's armpits, which was so fucking ticklish that Bobby jumped. 

"Sorry," Warren said, not sounding the least bit remorseful. He put a hand on Bobby's hip. "Do me?"

"Yeah, I'll fucking do you," Bobby muttered, ignoring the knowing smile Warren gave him.

Once Warren was sufficiently protected, Bobby slathered the rest of his own body in sunscreen, including the tops of his toes, the curves of his ears, and his dick, which he did while using one of Warren's wings as a screen so he didn't look like a gigantic pervert. Confident every inch of his exposed skin was covered, he sat down on the towel and surveyed the picturesque scene in front of him. 

"Okay, this is awesome," he said with a dopey grin. 

"Yeah, it's not bad." Warren settled cross-legged beside him. "Good suggestion, Ric."

"I've been known to have them," Rictor replied with a grin. He was still smearing sunscreen all over Shatterstar, who just stood there and took it. Rictor crouched down to work on his legs. "We'll see if it's still a good idea tonight, once you pasty fuckers have been exposed to the sun for a few hours." 

"Honestly, it'll be fine. I've already gotten a burn on my dick, and it hasn't fallen off yet."

Rictor turned to look at him, one corner of his mouth quirked up. "I wonder how that happened."

"How everything in my life seems to happen," Bobby replied. "Peer pressure."

Rictor snorted, fingers moving over Shatterstar's ankle, and Warren smiled at him, looking pleased. Bobby laid down on his back, stretching out over his towel. Overhead, the sky was entirely pale blue, not a cloud to be seen. Bobby had no doubt that he was going to get torched, with or without sunscreen.

He lifted his head to speak to Warren, who was looking at him. "Hey," he said, forcing casualness in response to Warren's intense gaze, "if I pass out, top me up if I start looking like a lobster, will you?"

"Of course," Warren assured him. "That's what I'm here for. To be your... top man."

It was a bad joke, possibly one of the worst Bobby had ever heard, but Warren had never been able to resist innuendo. Bobby had long ago accepted that Warren could be a giant cornball, just like the rest of them. Shaking his head, Bobby laid back down again, smiling despite himself, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Bobby sunbathed for a bit, drifting in and out of consciousness. Feeling warm was nice, especially for a guy who always ran cold. Eventually, he sat up again, stretching his arms. Rictor was the only one still there, a bottle of water in his hand. He was looking out over the surf, where Warren and Shatterstar were standing in the water, talking to each other. Warren was clearly dominating the conversation.

Bobby started rooting around in the bag he'd brought. He grabbed a water and a fistful of snacks.

"May I offer you... deez nuts?"

Rictor sighed. He held out a hand. "Normally, I wouldn't acknowledge such an old meme, but I've been told I'm nicer when I'm on vacation. Plus, I am a little hungry." Bobby placed one of the bags in his outstretched palm. Rictor ripped the bag open with his teeth. "But still... so awful. For the record."

"Duly noted," Bobby replied. He drained half his water bottle before setting to work on his own nuts. Rictor had still barely blinked. "What's so fascinating? Worried hubby is gonna get eaten by a shark?"

"Even without his swords, I'd put my money on Star." 

"I might actually pay to see that," Bobby said.

"I'd be there in the front row," Rictor replied, grinning like a love-struck fool. He got dopey like that every time he talked about Shatterstar. "No, I was basically thinking how good it is for Star to, like, have another bi guy on the trip. Like, the benefit of shared experiences or whatever. I don't know."

Bobby choked on his water. "Who's the other bi guy in this example? Warren?"

"Uh, yeah." Rictor finally turned away from the water to stare at him. "I mean, isn't he?"

"Warren is _not_ bisexual," Bobby said flatly, surprised at the anger in his voice. He didn't even know what he was mad about, and Rictor's pitying expression just made it worse. Bobby sighed. "You know that's the first thing li'l Bobby asked Jean. He's... I would know. He would have told me."

Rictor frowned. He clearly wanted to say something, but he was holding himself back. The fact that he was being careful with his words pissed Bobby off even more. "I think you're wrong," he said finally. 

Bobby stared down at his water bottle. "I know you're hung up on the flirting thing but take the flirting out of the equation. Warren would flirt with a rock if he thought it would give him attention. It doesn't mean anything. It's just the way he communicates. He's probably flirting with Shatterstar right now."

Rictor ignored that last bit and, as Bobby realized as he began to speak, the rest of it, too. "Is that why you're stuck in this weird homoerotically charged holding pattern with him? You think he's straight?"

"Uh, yeah. Straight guys seem like a direct path to heartbreak. What did you think it was?"

"I thought you were afraid of commitment."

"How can I be afraid of commitment? All I do is commit."

"To guys you know it won't work out with."

"What other choice do I have?" Bobby asked, anger flaring up again. "Human guys won't date me because I'm an X-Man, and I can't put them ahead of that. Super-powered guys seemed like a great solution, but it turns out I'm still me, and that's a deal-breaker, too. Every queer mutant I know is either married, a woman, not legal to drink, or _I'm_ just not into. I waited too long to come out. I'm fucked." 

"It worked out for me," Rictor replied quietly. "It can work out for you, too, if you just fucking let it."

"Lightning doesn't strike the same place twice," Bobby muttered. "Shit does not work out for me."

"Ugh. I've never had the urge to give you a hug before, and now it's finally happened, and we're both buck naked. But you know what? Fuck it." Rictor's arms came round Bobby's shoulders, squeezing him tightly, and despite the surplus of skin, Bobby leaned into him with a sigh. "I still think you're wrong."

"Hope exists to be crushed."

"That's the spirit, amigo," Rictor said, squeezing him again. "Think those positive thoughts."

"Fuck you," Bobby replied, a little wet, completely without heat, and Rictor's hold just tightened.

* * *

Eventually, Rictor let him go. Bobby made some flimsy excuses about going to get drinks – it was technically after twelve by approximately six seconds, according to his phone – and Rictor said nothing as Bobby wrapped one of the sarongs around his waist. He just needed some time alone to regroup.

With Warren's wad of cash firmly in hand, he got into the line. When it was his turn, he ordered four drinks, opting to have them served in hollowed-out pineapples. For one, he always enjoyed spending Warren's money way more than he enjoyed spending his own, and for two, Rictor deserved an apology pineapple for all of the crying on his shoulder. It had been deeply uncomfortable for both of them. 

But Bobby did feel a little better, even if he still thought Rictor was full of shit. 

Warren. Bisexual. In only Bobby's wildest dreams could that ever be true. 

He exhaled sharply. 

Arms full of pineapple drinks, Bobby kept them on ice until he got back to the group. Warren and Shatterstar were out of the water, sitting on the towels, still wet and glistening. Warren's wings were fanned out on Bobby's towel, so Bobby squeezed in beside Warren, saving his ass from the hot sand.

"To our very gay vacation," Bobby said after passing out all the drinks and taking off his sarong. 

"And to Rictor and Shatterstar on their first anniversary," Warren added with a smile, tipping his pineapple against Bobby's, "since I have a feeling we won't be seeing a lot of them tomorrow."

Shatterstar held up his drink. "That assumption is correct. Julio has informed me that even if another sea monster chooses to appear, I am to defer to Lords..." Shatterstar stopped himself at Rictor's expression, which was giving off clear _stop talking_ vibes. "I have been told that you'll handle it."

"Salud," Rictor added, grinning as he bumped his pineapple to everyone else's.

They shot the shit for a while, drinking and relaxing. Rictor had brought a pack of cards, so they played low-stakes poker for a bit until some of them started taking the game a bit too seriously. Eventually, Rictor and Shatterstar went back down to the water, pineapples empty, leaving him alone with Warren.

Shaded by Warren's wings, Bobby sat there, watching as Rictor and Shatterstar splashed around in the water. It wasn't technically a gay beach, just gay-friendly, but no one side-eyed them when they kissed or their touches became obviously romantic. They were not the only guys from the ship there either.

"You okay?" Warren asked suddenly, bumping his shoulder. "You and Ric got a little heated earlier."

Bobby blanched. Warren and his fucking eagle ears. "Ugh, how much of that did you hear?"

"Nothing. You were too far away, and it doesn't work like that anyway. You just looked a little tense."

"It was nothing. Just Rictor opening his big fucking mouth about something that isn't his business."

"I didn't realize you guys were so close," Warren said. 

"Neither had I," Bobby admitted. "I wasn't even sure he liked me all that much if I'm being honest. But... I don't know... it's, like, you've got Northstar as this guy who came out way before it was socially acceptable to do so, and then you have all these young mutants who, for them, being gay or bi or whatever is just how it is. Everyone is cool about it or most everyone anyway. Everyone who matters." 

Warren put a hand on Bobby's shoulder, not saying anything. 

"But Ric and me, we have more in common than we don't. We both struggled with it. Came out later. Dated women trying to make it work. Got outed before we were ready." Warren squeezed his shoulder, and Bobby smiled ruefully. "He texted me after I came out, all, 'if you ever need someone to talk to', and much to his surprise, I took him up on it. I don't know. We meet for dinner a few times a month."

"Well, I'm glad you had him. And I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you."

"Dude, you had your own drama to deal with," Bobby replied in the understatement of the century. 

"Yeah," Warren said, expression going tight for a moment before he went sunny again. He patted Bobby's knees before pushing up into a stand. "Hey, let's go check out the water. It's nice. Warm."

Bobby stood up, swaying a little as he realized how potent that drink had been. He opened his mouth to comment on it, but then Warren took his hand, pulling him towards the water. Too surprised to respond, Bobby just let Warren guide him, his eyes seeing nothing except the white fluff of Warren's wings. 

Something warm flickered in his chest before he could fully tamp it down. Like always, he ignored it.

* * *

They spent the rest of the day moving between the water and the sand. Bobby re-applied his sunscreen three times, waking up once with Warren's hands on the backs of his thighs, rubbing the lotion in. Warren made friends with the group of guys next to them, and they ended up joining them for a bit. 

Just a couple of butt-naked guys, hanging out together. No big deal. 

Late-afternoon, once the other group had left, Bobby started getting a little hungry for something more substantial than nuts. They still had a few hours before the ship left port, so they packed up, got dressed and headed off to find a restaurant. Rictor and Shatterstar walked up ahead, holding hands, while Bobby hung back with Warren, low-key hoping Warren would take his hand again. Of course he didn't. 

"That was fun," Warren commented as they strolled along. "I love being naked."

"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed," Bobby replied, too slow to avoid Warren's shove and almost careening into a couple walking in the other direction. "Oh no, I'm so sorry," Bobby said, taking the blame and ignoring Warren cackling in the background. "You dick. I almost mowed those _complete strangers_ down."

"You're way too short for that."

"I'm solid," Bobby protested with a laugh. "Like you're so tall."

"I'm taller than you are," Warren pointed out.

"Everyone's taller than me. _Rictor's_ fucking taller than me and that kinda pisses me off. He was such a shrimp when we first met." Bobby exhaled, suddenly aware of the chafing going on in his pants. He casually tried to adjust the seat of his shorts. "And ugh, I think my ass crack sucked in half that beach."

Warren snorted. "That's a great image, buddy. Thanks for that."

"I aim to please," Bobby replied, watching as Warren shook his head, laughing despite himself. Bobby took advantage of Warren's distraction to tackle him into a bush. By the time they caught up to Rictor and Shatterstar, Warren had Bobby firmly caught in a headlock, mussing up his hair with his knuckles. 

"Sorry to interrupt whatever the hell this is," Rictor said, "but we thought maybe we'd try this place?"

"Yeah, fine," Bobby muttered, going red. What did Rictor know anyway? The answer was nothing.

* * *

After they finished eating, Bobby grabbed the cheque and paid before Warren could even try. "Happy anniversary," Bobby said, speaking to Rictor and Shatterstar, as he protected the credit card machine from Warren's greedy fingers. "And thanks. For talking me into coming on this trip. It's been great."

"If you book for next year before Saturday, you get, like, a decent percentage off," Rictor pointed out. 

Bobby batted Warren's hand away as he tried to slip money into Bobby's pocket. He refused to react as Warren grabbed his wrist, dragging a thumb over the soft skin there. Under the table, Bobby went to kick him but just ended up stubbing his toe on Warren's chair leg instead. "I'll think about it. Maybe." 

"You're welcome to travel with Star and me," Rictor said, "unless something better turns up."

"Like it would," Bobby muttered, Warren's thumb still pressed to his wrist. 

They eventually headed back to the ship, stopping at the ice cream place to grab dessert. Bobby loaded up on every topping, burying the soft-serve under a mound of chocolate chips, gummy worms and caramel sauce. That was exactly what he was in the mood for, just sugar and relaxing. The idea of staying up late and dancing and drinking all night exhausted him. Maybe he _was_ too old for partying. 

He was just about to make up some bullshit excuse – too much sun, too much food, needed beauty sleep, bed too comfortable to resist – when Shatterstar returned to the table with an enviable mountain of ice cream and a brochure. "Some extremely outgoing men gave me this," he said, handing it to Julio.

Rictor examined it. "It's some sort of comedy show. I'm up for trying. If it sucks, we can just bail."

"Sounds good to me," Warren said, taking the brochure when Rictor handed it over. "Bobby?"

"I'm in," he told them. 

Bobby knew they had made the right decision when he saw all the couches. He flung himself into one of them, picking the best cushion before anyone else could. He ended up wedged between Warren and Shatterstar, sipping at a whiskey sour. Warren had his arm over Bobby's shoulders, head partially turned around as he talked with the guys behind them, trying to make sure they could still see over his wings.

The show started, and Bobby settled in, feeling blissfully invisible. Normally, he would have been all about trading witty quips with a comedian, as the resident X-Men joker, but maybe he _had_ had a little too much sun today because he was more than happy to sit back and let someone else carry the load. 

But the guy immediately zeroed in on Warren. Bobby couldn't blame him. He would have, too. He _had_. Basically from day one, he had found a million reasons to talk to Warren, invade his space, make fun of him. It hadn't been the most mature approach to getting in Warren's good books – in all honesty, it was probably annoying as fuck, though Warren had never complained – but it had gotten him attention. 

"Oh my, I never thought I'd get to say this so literally, but girl, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" 

Warren smiled, a sincere one, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Like I haven't heard that one before."

"I just bet you have, handsome. Because heaven called, and they want their angel back."

They went back and forth like this for a while, the comedian openly flirting and Warren just taking it. Thankfully it wasn't mean, because otherwise Bobby might've felt compelled to do some defending, and that probably wasn't going to end well for anyone. Besides, Warren could handle himself. 

It was one of the hotter things about him, just how competent he was at pretty much everything. 

As the bit wound down and the comedian focussed on someone new, Rictor jabbed him hard in the ribs. 

Bobby looked over to glare at him. _What?_ he mouthed.

Rictor pointed at him with a finger then gestured to the stage with his thumb. Whatever he mouthed back – Bobby knew he shouldn't have started this game when he was terrible at it – basically amounted to _you should try one of those cheesy pick-up lines_. His shit-eating grin drove the point home.

Bobby gave him the finger, trusting Rictor would get the message. It earned him another poke. Bobby shook his head in the universal symbol of _oh you little fucker_ and geared up to deliver his revenge. Bobby got one good jab in before Shatterstar grabbed both of their wrists and forced them in front. 

"This is very annoying," he said sternly. "Stop."

Warren, if he had noticed the exchange, didn't comment. He just kept on smiling, angelic and serene.

* * *

After the show, they grabbed another round of drinks before Rictor and Shatterstar started making noises about leaving. Bobby was surprised they had even lasted this long hanging out. He knew how much Rictor had been looking forward to his anniversary and understood how important it was to him. 

"Seriously," Rictor called as they walked away, "unless it's the end of the world and you need a couple of real heroes to show you how it's done, do not expect to see us tomorrow. Other than catching the sunrise, we're not leaving our stateroom. So you know where to find us, but also, don't fucking find us."

"Jeez, we get it, you're gonna bone your gorgeous husband all day. Stop rubbing it in." 

Without looking back, Rictor lifted his middle finger as Shatterstar leaned into him, nuzzling his ear. They bumped into the wall, and all Bobby could hear was laughter until they turned the corner and disappeared from sight. Bobby exhaled. He just wanted someone to love him like that. It looked nice.

Warren came up behind him, laying his arm over Bobby's shoulders and bracing him against Warren's chest. "Is it your bedtime, too, old man, or do you want to do something else? The ship has a rink."

"Ice does not impress me," Bobby lied, "and I'm not an old man. _You're_ an old man." 

"By, like, fourteen months," Warren said. "But seriously... are you interested? It'll probably be empty."

"Yeah because we're the only losers picking ice skating over drinking and dancing."

"Come on," Warren said, tightening his hold on Bobby's shoulders. "It'll be fun." 

Bobby made a noise of agreement and let Warren drag him off. Surprisingly, they were not the only ones there, but they were probably the only ones not romantically involved in any way. The rink was strewn with canoodling couples, hearts in every eye. _Great_ , Bobby thought, _just great_. 

Warren had already gotten their skates by the time Bobby turned away from the train-wreck in front of him. He was sitting on one of the benches, in newly purchased socks, tugging on a pair. He looked up as Bobby approached, tilting his head at the other skates. "Here, I grabbed some for you. Put them on."

"You didn't even ask me my size," Bobby said. 

"Because I know what it is," Warren replied, flinging a pair of socks at him. 

Warren got up and wobbled over to the ice, stepping onto it with the conviction of a guy confident in his own ability, so it was extra hilarious when he flailed, wings flapping furiously as he tried to regain his balance. Bobby started howling with laughter, drawing the attention of several guys around them.

By the time he joined Warren on the ice, his sides were aching, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. Warren gave him a look of complete exasperation, which just set Bobby off again. Grinning, Bobby skated away from him, shouting back over his shoulder, "think you can keep up, Bambi?"

"It's been years," Warren called after him, pushing off from where he stood into a wobbly stride. 

"Your suggestion, remember?" Bobby replied, skating backwards effortlessly.

"You fucking show off."

Bobby laughed. "Hey, they call me Iceman for a reason. Here, watch me really brag. Double axel!"

With an impressive amount of cheating, Bobby used his powers to jump into the air, spin two-and-a-half times and land cleanly, earning a smattering of applause. Warren looked like he wanted to kill him, making the whole thing even better. Grinning, Bobby skated off. He watched as Warren slowly gained confidence then lapped him just to rub it in a bit more. As the finale, he stopped sharply, snowing him. 

Warren blinked the ice off his eyelashes. "Are you trying to be an enormous jackass right now?"

"I sure am," Bobby confirmed. "Is it working?"

"Amazingly," Warren assured him.

Eventually, Warren started getting faster, finding the rhythm he'd forgotten over the years, but Bobby was still the much better skater. Warren chased him around the rink, never quite catching up, either from lack of skill or the fact neither of them could stop laughing. At one point, Warren tried using his wings to gain speed, but pretty much just knocked his feet out from under him, landing on his ass. 

Bobby skated by him, cackling. "Hey, I hope angels know CPR because you take my breath away." 

"Even less funny coming from you," Warren said, pushing to stand. 

"Would you touch me so I can tell my friends I've been touched by an angel?"

Warren leapt at him then, totally cheating by using his wings to fly, and the attendant yelled at them about the horseplay rule. Thoroughly chastised, they skated off the ice, giggling like lunatics. They were still laughing as they unlaced their skates. Bobby sincerely loved bad pickup lines, always had. 

They returned the skates to the rental counter then walked back to the room, still laughing off and on. The party looked like it was fun – it was a masquerade theme, and Bobby had purchased a crystal blue mask he was likely never to wear again – but he felt no desire to do anything but head back to the room and sleep. Even though it had been a low-key sort of night, he didn't feel like he had missed out at all.

"I think I'm ready for bed," Bobby said. "But if you wanna stay out..."

"I'm good," Warren assured him.

Back in the room, Bobby took a shower, rinsing off the last remnants of the beach from the crack of his ass. He suddenly got very tired, and then it was all he could do to climb into bed, still slightly damp. He was dozing by the time Warren joined him, after having showered downstairs in the guest bathroom.

The mattress sunk as Warren settled onto it, sliding up to press against Bobby's side. 

Like Bobby, he was totally naked. 

"That was a nice day," Warren murmured, laying an arm across Bobby's bare belly. 

"It was fun," Bobby agreed. "But I just have one question..."

"What?"

"Is that a stairway to heaven in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?"

Warren grumbled, warm in his ear, but it sounded fond. Bobby could feel Warren's smile against his skin as he chuckled. "I hate you," he said. "If you don't stop, I actually _am_ going to put on pants."

"I'm done," Bobby promised, laughing. "I swear."

Warren's grin widened, but he didn't say anything else, just snuggled in a bit closer. It had been a really great day, and Bobby was a little sad to see it end, but he couldn't deny how exhausted he was. Or how good Warren felt, sleepy against him and tucked up tight. That was great, too. That was the best.


	7. The Sixth Day

Bobby woke up before Warren did. Sometime during the night, he'd flipped onto his side, and now Warren was pressed against his back, his stiff dick pressed hotly in the space between Bobby's balls and his asshole. It felt good. Of course it did, but the moment he became aware of their positioning, he guiltily started trying to extract himself. His own cock rubbed against the sheets, making it all worse. 

Once he was finally free, he exhaled. Warren was still asleep, sprawled out over the mattress.

Yesterday, Bobby had done a very good job of not sexualizing Warren's nakedness. The absolute last thing he had needed, at a nude beach, had been to get a hard-on because his friend was criminally hot. This morning, with no such restraints, he ogled Warren to his heart's content. Perfectly rounded ass, impressively muscled back, sleekly toned legs. Just everything. Even his feet were good-looking. 

It was annoying. 

Too hard to bother attempting to piss, Bobby headed downstairs. He scooped up the day's schedule from the floor in front of the stateroom door then put on some coffee. As he waited for it to brew, he scanned all the activities being offered on the ship for the day. Not that he expected to do any of them. The novelty of just sitting around in the sun, drinking boozy drinks and relaxing hadn't worn off yet. 

Putting the paper down, Bobby leaned against the edge of the counter in the kitchenette and crossed his arms, staring down at his slowly wilting dick. It wasn't the most hygienic thing, his bare ass pressed against a place where people prepared food, but whatever, that was why cleaning products had been invented. He was certain every surface had been fucked upon at least once, probably multiple times. It was what he had planned to spend his entire vacation doing before the whole thing went sideways. 

Anyway, he was fine with how his vacation had turned out. It helped that Warren was so... Warren.

His dick had felt _really_ nice pressed up like that earlier. Some great spank-bank material for sure.

As he was pouring himself a cup of coffee, he heard the toilet flush upstairs, so he grabbed another mug and filled it. Briefly, he wondered if he should have put on pants, but then Warren came down the stairs, completely naked, and Bobby wondered why he had even been worried. Warren was Warren.

And Warren had _always_ hated clothes, much to Bobby's secret delight.

"Let's order room service," Warren said as he squeezed by, reaching for his mug of coffee. 

Bobby's dick, which had almost relaxed, plumped back up again from that minimal contact. He bit back a groan, grunting instead as he reached for the menu. _This is fine_ , he told himself. But he should have jerked off yesterday and hadn't, and now felt the urge keenly. He just needed to take the edge off. 

But he remembered jerking off _with_ Warren and that had been amazing. What if it happened again? 

What if he snuck off into the bathroom and whacked off quickly and _then_ Warren wanted a repeat?

As all the partying had reminded him, he wasn't a young man anymore. He couldn't risk it. 

"Bobby?" Warren said suddenly. "Are you still with me, bud?"

"Yeah, that sounds good." He tossed Warren the menu. "I'm thinking eggs benny with extra potatoes."

"A man after my own heart," Warren said, clapping him on the back. Part of the problem with Warren had always been how physical he was with affection. Arms over shoulders, pats on the head, hand always ready for a firm shake. Bobby, who came from a family where emotions were something you never mentioned at the dinner table, had taken a long time to get used to it. Sometimes, he still wasn't.

"Hey," Warren called out, sitting by the phone with the menu open on the table in front of him. Bobby looked up, hoping he didn't look as flustered as he felt. "Check the cupboards for champagne glasses."

"I hope you're thinking mimosas," Bobby replied as he walked across the kitchenette. A neat row of fluted glasses sat on the top shelf. "We have four. You know what that means. Double-fisting time!"

"Thanks for the great image," Warren said, poking at the stateroom phone, legs crossed, leaning over. 

Bobby was still tempted to duck into the bathroom and rub one out. Or just put on some shorts. His flesh was so weak for Warren, and even chatting on the phone, one foot bouncing impatiently, he was hot. And he somehow just kept getting hotter. Warren was a fine wine, and Bobby wanted to drink him.

That probably wasn't the metaphor Bobby's brain had been going for initially, but whatever. It was true.

* * *

While they waited for the food to arrive, Bobby went back upstairs. He finally peed, sighing in relief. He did not masturbate, which he hoped was the right decision. If nothing else, maybe he could instigate something. That might be fun, although he doubted it would be as smooth as anything Warren could do. 

He brushed his teeth, rinsing multiple times. Fluoride and orange juice definitely did not mix.

Wetting a washcloth, he wiped down a few important bits, like his armpits and his groin, then slicked on some neutral smelling deodorant. Squinting at himself in the mirror, he expertly tousled his hair. Unlike Warren, he did not spring fully formed from bed looking absolutely gorgeous. He had to work for it. 

Walking into the bedroom, he saw Warren down on the deck, setting up the table for breakfast. Bobby noticed idly that he had put down four champagne glasses and did a little fist pump. Warren played at being much more mature and boring, but at heart, he was still that free-spirit Bobby had grown up with. 

Warren had always been game for anything. He had gotten Bobby into so much trouble because of it.

With a smile, Bobby headed back downstairs just as there was a knock on the door. Bobby grabbed the towel that Warren had laid out, wrapping it around his waist. He hoped Mr. Eagle Ears had heard the pounding on the door. Outside, Warren was still buck naked, but the wings strategically hid most of it. 

A well-dressed attendant pushed the cart in, transferring everything onto the counter as Bobby stood back awkwardly, resisting the urge to help. He handed the bill to Bobby to sign, and Bobby channelled Warren for a moment, tipping generously. He scratched his name at the bottom, and then the guy left.

Warren came back into the room. He grabbed the bucket of ice with the champagne and the jug of orange juice, leaving Bobby with everything else. Bobby followed him outside, using his foot to push the sliding glass door closed behind him. He put the plates on the table, keeping the silver covers on.

"Do you want to do the honours?" Warren asked, offering him the unopened bottle of champagne.

"No, but only because I know how much it must have physically hurt you to ask me that."

"It really did," Warren agreed with a grin. "You always spill half of it." Gripping the bottle at the base, he began to pull off the gold foil. "And then there was the time you bounced the cork off Scott's visor." 

Bobby laughed. "Hey, I still maintain he shouldn't have been standing in the way. His fault, not mine."

With his thumb firmly on the cork and the bottle facing towards the water, Warren started untwisting the wire cage. "I had to use all my birthday money to replace the ruby quartz, so we wouldn't have to tell the professor. Thankfully, Hank did a great job fixing them, and Jean talked Scott out of killing you." 

"Yeah, it was a real team effort."

Warren tilted his head, one cheek dimpling with his grin. "We were always good together." 

"Maybe not that time. There is zero chance the Professor didn't know exactly what we were up to."

"Oh, absolutely, none at all," Warren laughed. He started wiggling the cork out of the bottle, using one of the cloth napkins to improve his grip. It gave a satisfying little pop, and Warren pulled the cork out and began to fill the glasses. Always eager to help with mimosas, Bobby grabbed the orange juice. 

"I kinda miss them, you know?" he said, adding the OJ to each flute once Warren was done with it. 

"Yeah," Warren replied. "But Scott's about due for a resurrection, so you never know, I guess."

Bobby hadn't actually asked Warren how much he still spoke to Hank outside of X-Men stuff and if he'd spent any time with Jean one-on-one since she'd come back to life. They just didn't talk about it. That was one thing they'd always had in common. They were both great at internalizing their feelings.

"Shit, sorry," Bobby said, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "I brought the mood down."

"I was thinking it, too," Warren replied, passing Bobby one of the glasses. "But real life can wait."

"Yeah, fuck real life," Bobby agreed easily, tipping the champagne flute towards Warren, who could never resist a toast, even in the middle of personal angst. "Thanks for coming on this trip with me, buddy. And for, like, always being there for me, and for spending so much of your time totally naked."

"My pleasure," Warren replied, a warm smile on his face, "for all of it."

Bobby flushed. He felt drunk, even though he hadn't had even a sip to drink yet. It was that smile. It had always undone him. "I just wanted you to know I've appreciated it. Not just now, but throughout the years. You made some tough times a lot easier to get through with, like, your general allergy to clothes."

"Why cover up a body this beautiful?" Warren asked with that sort of haughty arrogance that Bobby both hated and got immediately turned on by. His smile softened in a way that Bobby was even weaker to. "But seriously, I'm glad I could be there for you, even if I didn't exactly realize what I was doing." 

"You seriously had no idea?" 

Warren shrugged. "I knew that we were both getting something out of it. Something we both enjoyed."

Flustered, Bobby took a drink of his mimosa. "We should eat before it gets cold," he muttered into his glass. He looked over at Warren, daring him to call him on the abrupt change of topic, but Warren's expression was an uncomfortable mix of thoughtful and understanding, like he saw right through him.

But Warren let it drop. He sat down at the table, shaking out a napkin and laying it politely over his lap. Bobby pulled out his own chair and plopped into it. He was suddenly very hungry, and if he could use food to stop himself from saying anything more embarrassing, he was definitely going to do that. 

Feelings. Bobby sometimes thought his life would be better off without them.

* * *

Bobby expected them to leave the room at some point, but Warren seemed to be content to take advantage of their gigantic balcony, and Bobby didn't mind another low-event day. Between the two of them, they finished the bottle of champagne and the orange juice. Bobby was pleasantly buzzed as they laid on their recliners, Bobby on his back, Warren on his stomach, the sound of the sea all around them.

"Should I even ask how much you paid for this?" Bobby asked, examining the empty bottle.

"Nope," Warren replied cheerfully. "It'll just keep you up at night."

"We were just using it as a mixer. You could have cheaped out, you know, for once in your life."

"You know how much money I have. You were there when I inherited it. Why not spend it while I can? I can't take it with me, and even after giving most of it away, I'm still rich as fuck. It was a good champagne. We both enjoyed it. And I'm having a bottle sent over to Rictor and Shatterstar later." 

"I guess they do have to eat and drink eventually," Bobby replied, grinning. 

"It's important to stay hydrated," Warren agreed, matching Bobby's expression. 

"I can't make fun of them too much. I'd spend the day in bed with the love of my life in a heartbeat if, like, I could keep a relationship going for longer than a few months." The sigh escaped before Bobby could stop it. He made a face at himself. "I just... I don't think I've ever had that. Anything like that."

"Not even with Judah?"

"He came the closest, but he also broke my heart the hardest."

"That's always the risk, isn't it?"

Bobby shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, as far as, like, first boyfriends go, he was pretty good. Might've set the bar a little high though, because everyone else has basically been a disaster." Bobby tipped his head back, looking up at the clear blue sky. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for relationships."

"You haven't even been out that long," Warren said. "Just let it happen."

Bobby scowled. "With who, exactly? I have the world's tiniest dating pool. I'm doomed."

"I always forget how chipper you are after a break-up," Warren said, reaching over to pat his arm.

"You're the worst," Bobby told him, without any heat. He was mostly annoyed at himself for wasting his mimosa buzz on self-pity. Especially when Warren had paid so much money for it. He sighed.

"You're way too tense for a guy on vacation."

"Turns out vacationing is just another thing I'm terrible at," Bobby muttered, crossing his arms and leaning forward. He wished he had pants on. He felt completely naked, inside and out, with Warren's gaze still on him. "Speaking of things I'm terrible at, I should go find some random dude to hook up with and then read too much into the whole situation and then probably end up married to the guy." 

"Why haven't you? Hooked up, I mean. I'm not letting you marry someone you just met."

"Uh, I have literally spent almost every waking moment with you. When would I have the time?"

"Doesn't have to take that long if you're both determined," Warren pointed out. 

"I'm generally bad at casual hook-ups as you might have noticed. And besides, I'm having a good time anyway. Between all the flirting with random dudes in the alcohol line and the naked sleeping-slash-cuddling with you, I'm pretty much covered. I've got my hand for everything else. We're old pals."

Warren snorted inelegantly. 

"Yeah, yeah, keep laughing. Some of us don't have people lining up for our dick."

Warren didn't say anything, even though Bobby expected him to. He finally looked away, but Bobby didn't find any relief in it. He and Warren had a comfortable, time-tested way of communicating. Bobby complained, Warren downplayed his feelings, they made fun of each other, and then they were good. 

This did not feel good. This felt like Bobby had accidentally put his foot in his mouth. 

"Sorry, dude," Bobby said quietly, even if he didn't know exactly what he was apologizing for. 

Warren snorted softly. "It's nothing you did," he said, turning his face back in Bobby's direction. "This is actually the first time in forever that someone's looked at me like..." he trailed off, obviously thinking carefully about his next words. "Like they know who I am and they still want to fuck me anyway."

Bobby went hot all over. "Everyone looks at you like that," he muttered. 

"They wouldn't if they knew what I was," Warren said. "And they don't when they do." 

"Well, if I'm okay with it, anyone else should be. Though I guess we've already established I have very low standards."

Warren laughed a little, closer to a snort than anything else, but Bobby had worked hard for that wobbly smile and he'd take it. "You've always been weirdly good about all the Apocalypse shit."

"I know better than anyone that you're always there inside, somewhere," Bobby pointed out, keeping his voice light. It had been terrifying at the time, seeing Warren like that and then watching him kill one of Bobby's ice duplicates without hesitation, but it had also snapped Warren out of his brainwashing. 

Bobby had just been glad he'd thought to use an ice dupe. He would have been fucked otherwise. 

And not in the way he wanted either.

"I just want you to know that I appreciate it. Every time you stood up for me, every time you believed I was still me, it meant a lot. Thank you." He gave Bobby a crooked smile. "You're good for the ego."

"You're welcome," Bobby replied. "Even though you're supposed to be pretending you don't have any idea what I may or may not be thinking when I look at you."

"Rules are made to be broken." 

Bobby huffed. How many times had Warren gotten him into trouble uttering those same words? Too many to count. And Bobby had always gone along with it, freely, eagerly, because Warren was so cool and so handsome and so worldly. He was still like that, even after everything. Harder but still golden.

Still Warren, despite what Apocalypse had done to him, despite what Warren himself believed.

Bobby would know Warren anywhere.

* * *

They spent the rest of the afternoon on the balcony, alternating between chatting, sunbathing and grazing on the antipasto platter Warren had ordered along with a bottle of fancy wine. They made plans for dinner that involved sushi. Bobby read more of Warren's incredibly boring book. They napped. 

Basically, the one thing they _didn't_ do was jerk off together.

Bobby's cock hadn't really gotten the memo, but he was used to that by now. It wasn't like he was sporting an obvious hard-on, but it stayed in a persistent state of anticipation, ready to jump in the minute it looked like it might see some action. That saying his mother loved popped into his head again. _Hope springs eternal_. Bobby had never felt the idiom as keenly as he did right then. 

Idly, he wondered how long Warren had known Bobby's admiration of his body extended to wanting to sleep with him. Probably embarrassingly long. Bobby's penchant for staring at him when in the buff added to the fact Bobby was actually pretty gay was the sort of evidence even Warren couldn't ignore. 

It wasn't worth worrying about. Warren seemed okay with it. More than that, he seemed to _like_ the idea. 

Which was good, because Bobby had no idea how to stop lusting after Warren, when he was single. 

He thought again that maybe he should do something about it, find a guy and hook up with him and hope that took the edge off a bit. Warren had already made it clear he was okay with it, pretty much even expected it, but Bobby still couldn't work up the enthusiasm. Maybe tomorrow he'd feel like it. 

Eventually, they moved back inside. They took separate showers – Bobby upstairs, Warren downstairs – and he continued to avoid touching his dick, even though it was begging for it. It would have been so easy just to beat off quickly, but he just... didn't. He stood there under the water, hard and throbbing. 

He showered for as long as it took for his cock to soften, which was an embarrassingly long time. 

After he towelled off, he walked into the bedroom, scrubbing the water out of his hair. Warren was already there, damp and naked and gorgeous as he put on a watch. He looked up when Bobby stopped.

"Are you going to bust a nut if I try to wear one of my suits again?"

"I think I'll be able to control myself," Bobby assured him, only half believing it. 

"The real question is... do I wear underwear or not?"

"I think I liked it better when we didn't acknowledge that I find you hot," Bobby said, turning away from him. Bobby tugged on a pair of briefs and resisted any urge to peek. It didn't matter if Warren had underwear on. If Bobby didn't know one way or another, his imagination would take care of the rest. 

When Bobby finally looked at him again, Warren was fully dressed and fussing with his hair in the mirror. Bobby had lived through many Warren hairstyles, including various perms, but the one he had now – airy long layers, ends barely brushing his shoulders – was probably his absolute favourite. 

Bobby would say it made him look angelic, but a real angel probably wouldn't torment Bobby like this.

"Ready?" Warren asked.

"I'm not the one preening in front of the mirror," Bobby pointed out. 

"It takes work to look this good. It isn't all natural."

"If you're fishing for compliments, I'm fresh out of them," Bobby informed him. 

Warren grinned, pressing a hand to the small of Bobby's back and guiding him towards the stairs. Bobby allowed himself to be pushed, resisting the temptation to lean into the touch and prolong it. He used to be better at hiding his feelings. He tried to care about that, but right then it felt impossible. 

Warren's smile just shattered him into a million shards of ice every time.

* * *

At the Japanese restaurant, they were tucked away in the corner. Bobby had been on so many bad dates that started like this that he had almost laughed, but then Warren had got to talking about a show he'd watched recently, and Bobby had felt compelled to tell him just how bad and wrong his opinions were.

"It was garbage," Warren insisted, laughing. "I'm never getting that time back."

Bobby pointed a chopstick at Warren menacingly. "Renounce, you fool. It was a masterpiece."

They bickered for a while, alternating between sips of sake and trying to sneak kicks under the table. When their sushi arrived on a wooden boat, Bobby thought maybe they had ordered too much, but he was ready to make a valiant attempt. Warren looked equally determined. They agreed on a truce. 

"I might have to go to the gym after this," Warren said. "My outfit for tonight is a little... unforgiving."

"Dare I ask?" Bobby asked around the mouthful of maki he had just stuffed in.

Warren shook his head. He swooped in for another piece of sashimi. "Nope, it's a surprise."

"Hm," Bobby replied, trying to imagine what it might be. The last surprise had been... worth the wait. To say the least. It had almost done him in, and when this cruise was nothing but a bittersweet memory, Bobby would remember how Warren had looked in it, all smooth bare skin and stretchy hints of fabric.

Warren chuckled. "You're so easy," he said fondly. "In some ways anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'll tell you later," Warren said, plucking another piece of sashimi off the boat. "If you're good."

Bobby didn't normally like to be teased, but there was so much affection in Warren's voice that any annoyance Bobby felt was quickly replaced by the hot curl of anticipation low in his belly. He had no idea how he was going to go back to real life and act normal towards Warren ever again. He'd basically ruined Bobby for future staff meetings, which sucked at the best of times. He should stop this. But he couldn't and, being completely honest, he didn't want to. He'd return to his shitty real life in a few days. 

For now, he'd take the fantasy that Warren was giving him, even if it broke his heart in the end.

* * *

Warren's outfit turned out to be the gym shorts that he'd worn during their first year at Xavier's.

They had been short then, but more than a decade later, they were bordering on obscene. Warren hadn't gained any height since, but his body had clearly filled out, unless Bobby's memories of Warren's gym shorts had faded over time, and he deeply doubted that. Those shorts had been... quite formative. 

"Really?" Bobby said when Warren came out of the bathroom, looking pleased. 

"I'm just glad they still fit," Warren replied, examining himself in the mirror. "More or less."

"Less. Trust me, it's less."

Warren smiled at him, bright and happy, before heading for the stairs. From behind, his ass looked almost the same, the nylon fabric stretched tight, so that was one thing that hadn't changed. Bobby clung to that like a life preserver. He watched that familiar ass all the way out onto the crowded deck.

* * *

After day-drinking since breakfast, Bobby was content just to lose himself in the music and dance.

Similarly, Warren stayed away from the bar, eyes closed, body swaying with the beat. He was such a dorky dancer, but his natural grace covered all of his bad moves. He danced like a guy who was high on something, like life, or the best drugs in the world. The guys around them gravitated towards him.

But he stayed in Bobby's space, that same easy smile on his lips, almost like he used to be. 

Before they'd both been forced to grow up. 

"What's wrong?" Warren shouted in Bobby's ear after half a dozen songs, his hand curled around the back of Bobby's neck, holding him still. His wings pulled in, cocooning them in a shell of fluffy white. 

"I'm not drunk enough for this," Bobby yelled back, which was closer to true than not. He really wasn't into the party scene enough to appreciate it when he was basically sober. "I need to get some air."

"I know just the place." Warren took his hand, and for a moment, Bobby thought Warren was going to launch them in the air, but he stayed on the deck, weaving through the throng of people. They parted around him, the sight of a winged man still enough of a novelty that they instinctively stepped back. 

Warren pulled him along, not saying anything, the skin o his back glistening with sweat. Bobby kept his eyes fixed on the line of Warren's spine, not asking any questions. Eventually, they ended up at the other end of the ship. Save for a few pairs of men, it was pretty much empty. Bobby's ears were ringing. 

"Almost there," Warren said, taking Bobby up a staircase onto an even emptier deck. 

During the day, it was normally filled with deckchairs, but this late at night they'd been replaced by round-cushioned chairs big enough for two people, covered by canopies and turned towards the ocean. Warren's eagle eyes immediately found an empty one, and he climbed on it, making room for Bobby.

"Better?" Warren asked.

"Yeah, thanks." Bobby grinned, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I just find that scene exhausting sometimes. I really have to be in the mood for it."

"Hey, I'm not judging." Warren tucked his wings close as he settled into a more comfortable position, most of his weight on his side, his legs drawn up. "But you're having a good time, right? You like it?"

"A great time," Bobby assured him. "I kind of wish I had done this a long time ago."

"You got here when you needed to."

Bobby laughed a little, mostly at himself. "Yeah, I guess." He sat back, looking up at the sky and all the stars dotted over a canvas of midnight black. It was quiet except for the sound of Warren's breathing and Bobby's own heartbeat, which sounded impossibly loud in his ears. It was as if they were the only two people in the world right then, in the middle of a vast emptiness. Just him and Warren, together. 

It was the perfect hideaway for couples. It would be so easy to have sex here and never be noticed. 

"What are you thinking about?" Warren asked. 

"How quiet it is," Bobby admitted. "Also how many people must have banged on these chairs."

"A goodly number, I would think," Warren replied. "You can't really blame them, though."

"Nope," Bobby agreed easily, eyes still fixed on the sky. 

Warren didn't say anything for a while, though his gaze was still on Bobby's face, hovering at the corner of his vision. And then he said, "I haven't had sex since before the stuff with the Life Seed."

Bobby turned to look at Warren, surprised. "Wow, but that was..."

"I know how long ago it was," Warren replied, looking down for the first time, his damp hair curling in front of his face. Sometimes, Bobby thought Warren kept his hair long to hide behind it. He'd always kept it styled short before he lost his wings. "After the Life Seed, I wasn't exactly in my right mind." 

"Understatement of the fucking millennia, dude. I wouldn't have let anyone near you. You could not consent to anything like that." Bobby wasn't sure he'd slept at all during that period in Warren's life. Between chasing after Warren and convincing him not to give away his fortune, he'd been gassed. "I was a little surprised to find out you'd given me Power of Attorney. I always thought it'd be Scott."

"It's always been you," Warren said with a slight shake of his head, like he couldn't believe that Bobby would ever think otherwise. But it didn't erase how Bobby had felt, looking down at a copy of the document, realizing that his friend was gone. "I mean, if you don't want it, I can find somebody else."

"No, it's fine," Bobby replied quickly. "I'm happy to do it. I just hope I don't have to again."

"Yeah." Warren huffed a bit, under his breath. "And then after all of that... well, no one in _their_ right mind would have been interested." He shrugged. "It is what it is, I guess."

"But that was still a while ago," Bobby replied. "Is everything, like, working okay?"

"Does it look like everything's working okay?" Warren asked sharply. 

"Everything looks fine to me," Bobby said, lifting his hands in peace. "Looks great even."

Warren gave him an impenetrable look, letting the silence hang heavily between them. Even though it made him uncomfortable, Bobby endured the scrutiny. There was clearly something he wasn't getting. While he couldn't begin to guess what it was, he knew Warren well enough to understand that much. 

Warren crooked a sudden smile. "I have never had to work this hard to get someone into bed, Bobby."

"Who are you trying to get into bed?" Bobby asked. 

Warren's expression turned incredulous. "Uh, who else? You, Bobby. I'm trying to get _you_ into bed."

Bobby's brain finally caught up with the conversation. His cock, always the first to clue in, was already hard in his jock, pressing uncomfortably against the unyielding cup. His eyes were as wide as saucers, unblinking, as he stared at Warren. "You're trying to get me into bed," he repeated. "Since when?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Warren countered. "If you aren't interested, just tell me. I'll get over it."

It was a bad idea. 

It was going to ruin everything. 

But Bobby felt his body moving of its own volition, pushing into Warren's space. He sighed with relief as Warren's hand slid against his face and cupped his cheek. His thumb brushed over Bobby's lower lip, the barest a hint of a touch, and Bobby almost wept. And then, just like that, Warren was kissing him.

And Bobby was kissing him back. 

He'd spent a lot of time over the years imagining what it would feel like to kiss Warren. It had always looked pretty nice, although Bobby had tried not to stare, and in his head, he had crafted an idea of what it would be like in each perfect detail. And it was, Bobby realized, somehow even better than that. 

What was even happening here? How had he missed seeing this coming at all? 

Warren hadn't acted any differently. Other than the kissing, of course. That was definitely new. 

Bobby waited for Warren to register what he was doing and take it back, but they just kept making out, hidden from the world. Physically, Bobby was uncomfortable. For the sports-themed night, he'd dressed in a pair of bulky shoulder pads and restrictive shorts that had a protective cup tucked in front.

A poor choice in retrospect, but at least it contained his erection. He doubted Warren's gym shorts were being so kind. 

When Warren finally pulled back, Bobby whimpered at the loss. His lips were wet and swollen, and Warren dragged his fingertips over them, looking pleased with the results. Giving Bobby another one of his secret smiles, he climbed off the chair and offered his hand to Bobby. Bobby once again took it.

This time, Warren swooped Bobby into his arms and took off, wings flapping powerfully behind him. They cut through the night, taking the quickest route back to their room. Once they were settled down on the balcony, they started kissing again, earlier casual exploration replaced by sudden desperation.

Warren pulled at his chest plate, getting it unhooked. He pushed Bobby's shoulder armour off, and it clattered to the ground. Still kissing, they stepped inside as Warren's hands yanked impatiently at Bobby's compression shorts. He growled. "Why is everything you're wearing so hard to take off?" 

"It's thematic," Bobby protested. 

"It's infuriating."

"Yeah, I agree it was a terrible idea. My cock is getting crushed."

"The Avenging Angel to the rescue," Warren replied, kissing him again. The two of them worked together to get Bobby's shorts off, their danger room training finally paying off. Bobby groaned as his cock popped out, blissfully free from its confines. "That better?" Warren asked, pressing a hand over it.

"Yeah," he said, squeezing his eyes shut, absolutely refusing to come this quickly. After a few harsh breathes, he felt in control again and redirected all of that energy in Warren's direction, pushing him towards the side of the couch. Bobby would have preferred the wall, but he had wings to account for.

Because Warren had wings. Because Bobby was going to sleep with Warren and his wings. 

Trying not to think too hard about it, he took control of the kissing, dragging his mouth down Warren's throat to the hollow of his collar bone, over the rise of his beating heart and down his flat belly. As expected, the gym shorts hid nothing, stretched obscenely over Warren's working-as-intended cock. 

Dropping to his knees, Bobby pressed his face to the bulge of Warren's dick, mouthing him through the fabric. Warren tipped his head forward, his wings fluttering behind him and his chest heaving. As his mouth worked, Bobby moved his attention to Warren's hips, fingers slipping over the hem of his shorts. 

"Please," Warren murmured, one hand curled into Bobby's hair. "I can't wait, please, I..."

"I got you," Bobby said, cutting him off. He tugged Warren's shorts down and off his legs in one quick movement then put his lips over the head of Warren's cock, sucking it into his mouth. Warren sighed with relief, his hand going still on Bobby's head, not pushy, just resting there, as light as a feather.

"You are so good at this," Warren murmured, voice thick as honey. "Sucking my cock so beautifully."

Bobby looked up at him, cheeks hollowing out as he pulled back, making Warren groan. Pre-come slicked over his tongue, a pleasant mix of salty and sweet, and he began to imagine what it would be like to have Warren come in his mouth and how his jizz would taste pumping down Bobby's throat. 

But before that could happen, Warren tugged at him, pulling him into a stand. Warren kissed his messy mouth without hesitation, his tongue fearlessly slicking over Bobby's and drawing a deep moan out of Bobby's chest. "I want to fuck you," Warren breathed, kissing him again. "Can I? Would you let me?" 

"Yeah," Bobby replied dizzily, hot all over. "Yeah, I'm good. Let's do that. That sounds swell."

"Bed then," Warren said, already stepping away. "I'll fuck you over this couch some other time."

"Who says there's gonna be another time?" Bobby asked, grinning. "You think you're that good?"

"I'm a little out of practice, but yeah, I do."

Still in a state of disbelief, Bobby chased Warren upstairs, laughing. He flopped onto the bed as Warren headed into the bathroom, returning with condoms and lube. He smoothed a reverent hand over the swell of Bobby's buttock, making a soft sound of admiration. Bobby went warm all over with pleasure. 

Bobby assumed he'd just stay like that, but Warren rolled him over. "Is this okay for you?" he asked. 

Bobby nodded, all the moisture gone from his mouth as Warren spread his legs and settled between them. He watched as Warren rolled a condom down over his cock before slicking it up with a dollop of lube. Warren squeezed another healthy blob on his fingers before pressing them behind Bobby's balls.

Warren's fingertips rubbed over his asshole, barely teasing inside. With a soft sigh, he patiently lay there as Warren pushed into him with a single slick finger. All of him was up for just jumping on Warren's cock, but he wanted to be cool about this, wanted to savour the moment and let it stretch out. 

Warren had spoken about next times, but Bobby had learned to never trust the future. 

He would take what he could get, now, when it mattered most. 

Eventually, Warren added a second finger, fucking him to the edge before pulling out completely. He leaned over Bobby, catching his mouth in another kiss, and then began to press his cock inside, inch by inch, moving agonizingly slow. Bobby lifted his legs higher, changing the angle slightly, and then it was even better somehow, Warren bottoming out as Bobby clung to him, breathing wetly in his ear.

"Fuck me," Bobby murmured, hands on Warren's back. "Show me how good you are. I dare you."

Warren chuckled, always one to respond to a dare, and after a moment, found the rhythm he wanted, fucking into Bobby's body with long, perfect strokes. His cock felt amazing sliding up against his prostate, stretching him, filling him. Lowering his hands, he smoothed his palms over Warren's ass. 

"I know you can do better," Bobby breathed into his ear. "Make me feel it. Make me remember it."

"Fuck," Warren replied with a shaky laugh. "I'm not going to last at all if you keep talking."

"Like that? That's my sexy voice. It turns out I actually have one."

Warren groaned, hips pumping erratically, speeding up. Feeling himself begin to shift on the mattress, Bobby pried his hands off Warren's flexing ass and fisted them in the sheets above his own head instead. Emboldened, Warren curved a palm around Bobby's ankle and guided it onto his shoulder. Warren's cock slid deeper, the angle exquisite, and Bobby tilted his head back with a moan.

The noises Bobby was making seemed to spur Warren on. One clumsy hand curled around Bobby's cock, jerking it in time with his thrusts. _Unfair_ , Bobby thought helplessly as his orgasm hit him like a Sentinel. He'd wanted Warren to come first, wanted to take him apart, but he'd have to settle for this, coming on his cock, shaking with it after spending the entire day anticipating something else entirely.

This was better. This was so much better. He hoped Warren thought so, too.

And from the way Warren was moving and the frantic snap of his hips, it certainly felt like he did.

Panting harshly, Warren pressed his face to Bobby's neck and came, with Bobby tight around him. 

They lay there for a while, recovering, before Warren pulled out, tossing the condom somewhere. Bobby protested vocally – knowing his luck, he'd be the one to get it stuck to his foot – but Warren hummed at him to be quiet. "Don't ruin it with your obsessive cleanliness," Warren murmured sleepily.

"Basic minimum cleanliness," Bobby insisted. "You are a total slob."

"Only around people I trust," Warren replied, which shut Bobby right up, probably intentionally. 

A million thoughts bounced around Bobby's head, but he forced them to stop. Whatever happened tomorrow, happened tomorrow. Tonight, he was tired, and he wanted a post-fuck cuddle, and Warren had already twisted himself around Bobby without having to be asked. It had been fun. He felt good. 

If only he hadn't been in love with Warren, an unexpected hook-up would have been exactly what he needed.


	8. The Seventh Day

Bobby woke up, badly needing to pee. It wasn't until he was done, creeping back to bed, that the events from the previous evening came back clearly. He fought the urge to slink out of the room, avoiding a potentially awkward morning after, but after all the shit he and Warren had been through together, Bobby owed him a little more than that. He didn't actually regret it. He just worried that Warren did.

As he slid back onto the mattress, Warren immediately reached for him, pulling him in close. 

Bobby tried to go back to sleep, but all he managed was a half-hearted doze. Was he allowed to trace over Warren's skin with his fingertips? He certainly hoped so, because he was doing that now, enjoying the sleepy murmurs his hand was teasing out of Warren. His wings shivered behind him, fluttering with each pass of Bobby's fingers. They weren't his original wings, of course, just nearly flawless copies.

Bobby knew what it felt like to be rebuilt, to come back not quite the same. Thank you, Emma Frost. Or not. He was still a bit salty about that time in his life, but he also knew he couldn't change the past.

And he couldn't undo sleeping with Warren. 

At least unless they both got mind-wiped, but that seemed a little extreme.

Bobby felt the moment Warren came awake for real, his breath shifting, his wings going still. Bobby kept one hand on Warren's back, mostly as a _hey remember me_ sort of reminder, as if Warren could somehow forget. They had both been sober at the time. They had gone into this with eyes wide open.

"Good morning," Warren murmured, nuzzling Bobby's jaw. 

"Hey," Bobby replied. 

Warren smiled, putting a hand on Bobby's face and leaning up to kiss him. Even with morning breath to contend with, his kisses were somehow even better than last night's. Warren kissed Bobby like he was the only one in the world worthy of them. His tongue softly teasing, Warren's lips moved against his. 

Bobby just kinda lay there as Warren explored his mouth languidly, taking all the time in the world. His legs shifted restlessly on the bed, cock heavy and hard against his belly. More than anything, he wanted Warren's hand on it again, but Warren just kept kissing him, his lips slowly moving away from Bobby's mouth to get at other ignored parts of him, like the line of his throat and the curve of his shoulder.

When Warren's mouth latched over his nipple and sucked, Bobby almost bucked off the bed. 

"Shit," he exhaled, desperately rolling his hips, looking for any available source of friction. 

"Think how they'll feel when I do this and they're pierced." Warren moved his attention to Bobby's other nipple. "You should let me be there," he added, giving it a gentle bite before pressing his tongue flat, soothing the sting. "And maybe if they're open-minded, I can suck your dick while they do it." 

"Fuck," Bobby breathed, pressing a hand to his mouth. "You couldn't. They wouldn't."

"But maybe I'd ask," Warren told him, grinning up at him as he kissed down his belly, "just in case."

Warren's moved over the head of his cock, taking him inside. Bobby expected Warren to be a little hesitant, like he'd been the night before with the butt-fucking, but he wasn't. He licked, and sucked, and bobbed on Bobby's cock, the suction of his mouth impossibly tight. And the fact this was Warren sucking his dick wasn't lost on him. It made it even hotter than the default, which was pretty damn hot. 

Bobby pushed feebly at Warren's shoulders. "I'm gonna come," he warned him.

Warren smiled around his cock, lips stretched thin. He pulled off. "That's the point, buddy," he said before dropped his head again, cheeks hollowing as he resumed sucking Bobby off with enthusiasm. 

Bobby tipped his head back, groaning as he filled Warren's mouth. It felt like it went on forever, rope after rope of jizz, Warren's throat bobbing eagerly as he swallowed. When Warren finally pulled back, lips wet and slick with Bobby's come, Bobby felt raw, like Warren had hollowed him out completely. 

Gathering the few brain cells he had left, he reached for Warren's cock, standing stiff between his legs, but Warren caught him by the wrist. He kissed Bobby, slicking his messy tongue into Bobby's mouth.

"I want to fuck you on the balcony," Warren told him between kisses, "and I want you to come again." He palmed Bobby's soft cock, and it twitched, instantly interested. Warren smiled wickedly. "In the meantime, I'll see how quickly my fingers and my mouth can get you there. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah," Bobby agreed breathlessly and submitted himself to Warren's competent hands.

* * *

It took an embarrassingly short amount of time, by Bobby's normal standards, to get his dick back to full mast. Warren stayed hard through it all, wet tip leaving trails on Bobby's skin whenever it brushed against him. Bobby wanted to touch him so badly, but Warren kept pushing his roving hands away.

But eventually, he got Bobby to a place that satisfied him and then watched as Bobby walked himself downstairs and outside, stopping in the middle of the balcony. Behind him, Warren kissed over his shoulders and neck, one slick hand working itself between Bobby's ass cheeks, touching his rim. 

"I'm gonna fuck you against the rail," Warren breathed in his ear, two fingers tucking inside, twisting into his hole, "where anyone could see you." It wasn't technically true – unless some super-powered person picked that exact moment to fly by, the balcony was pretty private – but the fact it _could_ be true caused Bobby to groan out loud. Warren chuckled. "You like that idea? Knowing someone's watching?"

"Why are you talking so much?" Bobby replied, his cock jumping between his legs. 

"I could film us fucking," Warren said, ignoring him, "so you could see how amazing you look."

Bobby tipped his head back, clenching around Warren's thrusting fingers. He probably mewled, but he would deny that if questioned. Evidently sensing Bobby was on the edge, Warren pushed him to the railing and leaned him over it, tilting his ass up before pushing his cock in with one snap of his hips.

"Fuck, yes," Bobby gasped, trying to stay quiet. Warren tucked two dry fingers into his mouth, and Bobby sucked on them, silencing himself. Deeply and steadily, Warren fucked him, his strokes at a maddeningly perfect angle. The difference between this morning and last night was noticeable. 

Warren rode him hard, his thrusts driving Bobby against the rail, his cock pressed to the glass. Bobby felt his orgasm rise up like a storm, and he tried to fight it, he really did, but Warren kept hitting him just right, and Bobby honestly just loved being fucked. Especially by Warren. Specifically by Warren.

"You're going to come without anyone touching you, aren't you?" Warren asked, driving into him. 

Bobby nodded frantically. His cock pulsed, streaking white all over the balcony railing, over and over, until he could barely stand, his legs wobbly, held up only by Warren's dick as it fucked into him. Panting harshly, Warren's mouth worked along his shoulder, marking kisses over Bobby's skin.

Warren came with a groan, his fingers still in Bobby's mouth, now slick with saliva. 

Eventually, he pulled out, stepping back. Bobby exhaled sharply, staring down at the water and trying to catch his breath before turning around. Warren was on one of the recliners, discarded condom by his foot. He grinned dopily at Bobby. "Shower time?" he asked, propped up on his elbows, legs spread.

"You are a menace," Bobby told him. "I'll see you once I'm dressed. I'm fucking starving, dude."

"Pool after?" Warren asked, knees swinging back and forth, looking annoyingly pleased with himself. 

"Yeah," Bobby agreed, turning away as he flushed hotly. "That's fine."

"Okay, see you then," Warren said, and Bobby just nodded. It was all he could manage right then.

* * *

Bobby scrubbed two hook-ups worth of lube from between his thighs then washed his hair and shaved. His only regret was that Warren hadn't fucked him raw, which, as far as regrets went, was a minor one. Imagining Warren's come trickling down his thigh did weird things to his belly, so it was just as well.

Once he was done showering, he brushed his teeth. His neck and shoulders were covered in welts, and he only hoped Rictor and Shatterstar had fallen overboard because there was no other way to explain it. With a small sigh of defeat, he went into the bedroom in search of clothing that was easy to take off.

He settled on a speedo, a pair of board shorts and a short-sleeved graphic tee with decent coverage. 

Warren was waiting for him downstairs in a tank top and a pair of gym shorts that actually fit this time. He stood when Bobby approached the door, following him out. They didn't talk again until they were standing at the buffet, with Warren leaning over and whispering in his ear, "so many hickeys, buddy."

"Zip it," Bobby said, flushing as Warren laughed. "Mind your own business, you arrogant jerk."

Bobby briefly considered finding his own table to get away from Warren's fond, knowing look, but considering he had spent half his life pining for Warren to look at him like that, he decided to suck it up. Besides, Warren had gotten way too much bacon again, and he definitely owed Bobby this time.

They ate in silence, bumping into each other's knees under the table. Bobby drank two cups of coffee, black, and tried to pretend he didn't notice how Warren was looking at him. This was the part that Bobby had no immunity to, that always sucked him in. The morning after, when they wordlessly agreed to try and keep it going. Bobby didn't have to ask if they were going to fuck again because he knew. 

They had one full day left on the cruise, and if nothing else, they at least had that.

* * *

Bobby's dream that Rictor and Shatterstar had been whisked away by a giant whale was crushed when they ran into them on deck while looking for chairs. There were four together on one of the upper decks, which Warren quickly claimed. Bobby resigned himself to his fate unless Warren decided to be coy, but having met him, Bobby wasn't even sure Warren knew how to be coy. It wasn't in his DNA.

Whatever, Bobby decided, shrugging out of his shirt. He shoved his shorts down, kicking them off. He'd worn his smallest suit, the one that highlighted the vee of his groin and the dark hair on his lower belly, so even if he had wanted to hide, he couldn't. And he was sick of hiding anyway. It sucked. 

"Can you do my back?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at Warren, who grinned at him.

"Sure," he replied, picking up the sunscreen bottle. The first place he started was Bobby's shoulders, his hands curving over them, rubbing the lotion into Bobby's heated skin. Bobby's cock was mercifully fucked out, which was the only thing saving him as Warren's palms danced determinedly over his back.

Warren finished the show by sliding his finger under Bobby's swimsuit where it barely covered his ass. 

"My turn," Warren said, turning around, his wings blocking everything else from Bobby's view. 

With the same care Warren gave him, Bobby smoothed the sunscreen over his shoulders. He moved down, circling the base of his wings and feeling the muscles flex under his skin. Bobby actually had no idea if Warren normally let people touch him there, but he had never stopped Bobby, not even once.

Bobby was beginning to understand how much implicit trust he had placed in Bobby over the years. 

It was a little terrifying to think about. 

Bobby made quick work of the rest of Warren's back, sliding his hands into the seat of his bathing suit before finally stepping away and out of the shade of his wings. Bobby sat down on his chair, leaning back and determined to enjoy the sunshine. Rictor and Shatterstar were speaking lowly to each other in that language Bobby didn't understand, but he decided not to worry about it. He was on vacation.

* * *

They spent most of the day by the pool. Bobby split his time between napping, drinking, swimming and sunning. Warren sat beside him for a lot of it, making faces at the book he was trying to get through. Bobby didn't know why he didn't just give up, but Warren pointedly ignored him when he suggested it. 

During one of his dips in the pool, Rictor slid into the water beside him, giving Bobby the old side-eye.

"All right, spit it out," Bobby said, sinking down to his chin. 

"I won't comment on the hickeys," he replied. "Though it looks like you had yourself some fun."

"A barrel of monkeys worth," Bobby muttered, crossing his arms under the water. He could still feel the echo of Warren's cock acutely, his ass sensitive to basically everything right now including chlorinated water. Even thinking that, he wished Warren had fucked him even harder, made it last even longer.

"Normally, I wouldn't care who. To be honest, I still don't. But remember when Star said he could read body language? He can. It's pretty much how he lasted so long on Mojoworld. He's not great at the non-murder-y stuff, but he's way better than he was," Rictor said. "He says you two definitely hooked up."

"I can't imagine him saying hooked up."

"He didn't. He said you had sexual intercourse, which, ugh, give me flashbacks to health class."

Bobby snorted. "You and me both, man. You haven't lived until sex ed with Professor X." He looked up to the chairs, where he could just see the canopy of Warren's wings. "I don't know what you want me to say here. Yeah, we slept together. It's no big deal. We worked each other up, and then we banged."

"More than once."

"For a guy who doesn't care, you really seem to want a lot of details."

Pressing his hands together under his nose, Rictor muttered something in Spanish. It didn't sound kind. "I don't want details. The absolute last thing I want is details. I don't even want to gloat, at least not to your face." Rictor paused. "No, you know what? I am going to gloat. I fucking _told_ you that flirting wasn't normal. But I also know how you feel about him and how, like, momentous this is for you."

Bobby scoffed. "I repeat: I was drunk when I told you all of that shit."

"You weren't _that_ drunk," Rictor said. 

"I wasn't serious," Bobby insisted, but Rictor just continued to ignore him. 

"Did you guys talk at all beforehand? Or did you jump straight to the fucking?"

"I'm going to say this in the politest way possible, but fuck off," Bobby replied. "Just for today, I'm asking you not to worry about it. Tomorrow when we're back in New York, when it all inevitably goes to shit, sure, you can say I told you so a million times, and I'll gladly listen. But today is off-limits."

"You're killing me here, dude."

"Join the fucking club," Bobby replied. "It's Warren. We'll be fine regardless of what happens."

Rictor made a noise of disapproval but mercifully dropped it, even if he didn't leave the pool. Bobby tipped his head back, the warmth of the sun spreading over his face. This part he was definitely going to miss. He never felt warm in New York, not even when he sat out in Central Park and sunbathed.

"How was your anniversary?" Bobby asked, changing the subject. "Everything you hoped for?"

Rictor always got a little dopey when he talked about Shatterstar. This time was no exception. Bobby could practically see the hearts in his eyes. "Yeah, it was really good. It was nice to have a full day one-on-one together. He's been working so much recently, finishing up the third floor renovations, and despite being, like, at the bottom of the X-Men reserve list, I keep getting called away on missions."

"Welcome to being an adult," Bobby said. "It blows."

"Seriously," Rictor agreed with a laugh. "We make time when we can. We always have, for each other."

"I'm not gonna lie. I really envy you, dude."

Keeping his unspoken promise not to say another word about it, Rictor patted his head. Bobby fervently wished he could take that Gay Margarita Night back. He also wished he hadn't cried. But he couldn't and he had. Hopefully someday Rictor would stop bringing it up. That would be great.

* * *

Bobby had been keeping his eye on the hot tub all afternoon, so when it finally cleared out, he made a beeline to the bubbling water and slid in before anyone else could take the two feet of space that had opened up. It wasn't long before a long shadow cast over the pool. Bobby looked up to see Warren. 

"Room for one more?" he asked, his swimsuit hanging dangerously low on his hips, bulge prominent. 

"Always," the random dude beside Bobby said, sliding over so Warren could squeeze in between them.

Bobby had a horrific vision of Warren flirting with this guy and Bobby having to take it, but Warren immediately began playing with Bobby's hair, stroking his fingers intimately along Bobby's hairline. The random dude gave Bobby a look of apology, which he easily accepted. He hadn't known either. 

"This day is going by too fast," Warren said quietly. 

"If you wanna harsh my buzz, you need to go hang out with Rictor."

"When I left, the two of them had squeezed into a chair together and were whispering sweet nothings."

"Jeez, they're ridiculous," Bobby muttered, heat blooming over his cheeks. It was a bullshit comment, and they both knew it. He'd totally do the same thing with Warren in an instant if he wanted to. He probably didn't want to, but his fingers kept sweeping over Bobby's neck, raising the hairs on his skin. 

Bobby would complain about mixed signals, except Warren had been pretty direct about everything. 

They sat in the hot tub for long past the recommended time, mostly because Warren leaned forward and kissed him, right there, in front of everyone else. He smiled against Bobby's lips then kissed him again, keeping the movement of his lips sweetly sensual. These easy kisses weren't a prelude to screwing. 

Bobby didn't know what they were. Yet another worry to push to tomorrow. 

Eventually, Warren pulled back. "Drinks?" he asked, tracing a finger over Bobby's chest.

"Uh, sure," Bobby replied, willing his cock to relax. "Just give me a second."

Ignoring Warren's knowing smile, Bobby took a few deep breaths and struggled to centre himself. He'd spent years not reacting to Warren. It was basically muscle memory at this point. The fact they'd slept together was throwing a wrench into the works a little, but whatever. Bobby could totally do this. 

Eventually, he climbed out of the water, Warren close on his heels. He almost made Warren stand in the other alcohol line, but he behaved himself, standing behind Bobby, his arms looped over Bobby's shoulders. It was like he couldn't keep his hands off Bobby, like he was absolutely desperate for touch. 

Warren's words about nobody touching him anymore came back to Bobby. He still didn't know what he had meant, except Warren seemed starved for it now. Bobby, being the most excellent friend that he was, was willing to take one for the team here if it made Warren feel better. It didn't hurt that Warren was hot as shit, and Bobby craved the sort of attention Warren was giving him. This was pure altruism. 

Right, Bobby thought, making a face. He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Why did he always do this to himself? He was just so predictable. Good ol' Bobby Drake, always thinking about others first. This sort of cynicism didn't stop him from smiling reflexively as the bartender handed over his order.

"You okay?" Warren asked, pressing a hand to Bobby's lower back. 

"Fine," Bobby replied, not entirely a lie, and Warren took his response at face value. 

Drinks in hand, they wove their way back upstairs to the chairs. Shatterstar was standing at the railing, leaning on his forearms. The way he had his back arched and his hips tilted, it looked like a pose, but Rictor had claimed he just naturally did stuff like that. He looked up as he and Warren approached. 

"Julio is participating in a most handsome man on the ship contest," he told them matter-of-factly. 

"Is he now?" Sure enough, when Bobby stepped next to Shatterstar, Rictor was up on stage with a bunch of other good-looking, well-built dudes, answering an innocuous question about his hobbies. He didn't look plastered out of his mind, which was the only way Bobby would have had the balls to do it.

Or if someone had goaded him into entering. Bobby suspected that was what had happened here. 

Bobby nursed his drink as he watched the competition, cheering for Rictor whenever it was his turn to do anything, Warren applauding wildly beside him. Shatterstar, on the other hand, barely reacted at all, just kept his gaze fixed intensely on the stage, smiling. The look on his face was one of pure worship.

When Rictor arrived back at the chairs carrying a ridiculously large voucher for a free room upgrade on next year's cruise, Bobby honestly thought Shatterstar was going to carry him off over his shoulder.

"If you ever make me do that again..." Rictor laughed as Shatterstar pressed a kiss to his lips.

"I took a bunch of pictures," Bobby assured him. "They'll be in next month's mutant newsletter."

"Seriously, I will fucking kill you," Rictor said, his wide grin taking the edge off his threat. Shatterstar coiled his arms around him like a snake, face pressed into the curve between his neck and shoulder. "Also, for the record, those were some incredibly hot guys, and I won with my beauty _and_ brain."

"And you're married to _me_ ," Shatterstar said with an air of pride. 

To celebrate, Warren and Bobby returned to the booze line, getting their maximum two each, and brought them back for a mini-celebration of Rictor's new ship status. Bobby mostly did it because it was making Rictor so mad; Warren was a little more earnest about it all and actually seemed sincere. 

What a dork, Bobby thought fondly, leaning back against Warren's chest. He couldn't stop smiling.

* * *

The afternoon wore on. It was sweltering, so Bobby took pity on everyone and provided ice on demand, even though normally he would have found the ceaseless requests annoying. There were a lot of things he normally found annoying that he was willing to give a pass, at least until tomorrow morning when they headed back home. For instance, Warren was literally preening beside him, reclined in a way that showed off his best assets. So all of them, but primarily his thighs and his bulge.

Bobby couldn't blame the guys who stared. It was taking all of his willpower not to. 

He cooled off in the pool for a bit, in more ways than one, and he had a nap, one of Warren's wings shielding him from the sun. As Warren dozed beside him, his swimsuit pulled into the crack of his ass, his butt cheeks bared, Bobby tried to read more of Warren's terrible book until it made him too angry. 

Bobby spent the rest of his time people-watching. He was going to miss this, being surrounded by people who had this singular thing in common. It'd been a special trip, even though it felt like just yesterday that he'd arrived in front of the X-Mansion, a bundle of excited nerves and still heart-broken.

And now it was practically over. The jury was still out on the status of his heart. 

As the sun began to set, Rictor poked him in the foot with his giant novelty voucher. 

"Hey, we're thinking about dinner." 

"Yeah," Bobby said, leaning over and putting a hand on Warren's shoulder. "Wake up, sleeping beauty."

"I was just resting my eyes," Warren insisted, voice fuzzy with his sleep. He might've fooled Rictor and Shatterstar, but having spent the last week sharing his bed, Bobby could definitely tell the difference. 

"Food?"

"I could eat," Warren said, sitting up. His wings stretched behind him, pushing into Shatterstar's space. Shatterstar made a hilarious face as Rictor rolled his eyes. Without turning around, Warren apologized swiftly, "Sorry. I've barely flown this week. It's like I've forgotten how much space they take up."

"It was an honour," Shatterstar said gravely. Beside him, Rictor just sighed.

* * *

After dinner, they headed back to their respective rooms to get ready for the last party of the cruise. The prompt had been a bit vague – Through the Years, which seemed a lot broader than all the other nights – but he'd eventually settled on vintage sailor as an homage to a book about the gay history of sailors that Rictor had lent him. He should have loaned it to Warren to save him from the book he'd brought.

Bobby stared at himself in the mirror. After a full week of barely wearing anything, he felt overdressed. 

From somewhere behind him, Warren whistled lowly. "Hello, sailor. Don't you look like a dish?"

Bobby snorted with laughter. He turned around, ready to make Warren promise to never call him a dish again, but then he saw Warren and all the moisture in his mouth dried up. Bobby was instantly hard. 

Like him, Warren was more dressed than Bobby had seen him all week, but he may as well not have been. He was wearing a pink, silky robe that he'd kept untied, revealing a smooth chest and rock-hard abs, and a pair of low-slung jeans, flared at the knee, that clung to him like a second skin. They were held precariously on his hips by a thick leather belt and a large silver buckle that drew attention to the outline of his cock, resting to the left, crown, shaft and balls neatly defined even from a distance.

Bobby, who had been very good all week at ignoring his desire to blow Warren whenever he showed up in some hot-as-hell costume, felt his resolve weaken.

He supposed that was the perk of already having fucked a few times. Now he could actually do it. 

"You like?" Warren asked, hands on his hips, chunky beaded bracelets on his wrists. He smiled. 

"Yeah, I like. You look like you should be fronting a seventies rock band. Those pants are... tight."

Warren brushed a hand over the swell of his genitals, making an already obscene picture worse. He obviously had no underwear on. Licking his dry lips and using his powers to pull moisture from the air, Bobby stepped towards Warren, whose eyes watched his every move. Warren's smile deepened. 

"You have been driving me crazy all week," Bobby told him, grabbing him by the belt buckle and jolting him forward, knocking his hand away. "I'm fucking convinced that every costume you've picked is because you know it's gonna give me a hard-on. It's like you've been put on this earth to torture me."

"I like how you look at me," Warren admitted, watching through hooded eyes as Bobby sank to his knees and unbuckled his belt. "It turns me on," he added, his breath hitching as Bobby inched the zipper down. Part of it was to tease, but the other was conscious of delicate flesh. "It makes me hard."

Bobby pushed the skin-tight pants down Warren's hips, just low enough to comfortably pull his cock out. Without preamble, he sucked the head into his mouth, earning himself a throaty moan. With one hand at the base of Warren's cock, he put the other on Warren's bare buttocks, feeling them flex. 

Determined to punish Warren for being sex on legs, Bobby began blowing him in earnest, taking him deep into his throat. He was a nice size for sucking, perfectly made for fucking Bobby's mouth. Bobby looked up at Warren and met his eyes. Warren shivered, cock twitching between Bobby's stretched lips.

"Fuck," Warren breathed. "You were made to suck a cock. Do you understand how hot you look?"

Bobby pulled off. He ran the flat of his tongue from base to head. "You can fuck my mouth," he said. 

"You'd let me?"

"I like it," he said. "And if for some reason I stop liking it, well, we have safe words for a reason."

Warren pressed a thumb to Bobby's lower lip, and Bobby eagerly sucked it into his mouth, giving him a preview. Warren's cool blue eyes went hot as Bobby guided his hand away and replaced it with what he really wanted, Warren's hard cock. He sucked Warren in again, taking him as deep as he could go.

Warren, never one to ask twice when he liked the terms of the contract, started fucking his mouth in earnest, giving Bobby ample opportunity to show off his lack of gag reflex. It was messy and loud, and he knew he was going to be croaking like a frog for a few hours, but he didn't care. Warren felt so good in his mouth, like he belonged there, and Bobby just really loved sucking on Warren's gorgeous cock.

He just really loved _him_ , and that made it perfect. He knelt there, taking Warren's dick with enthusiasm, the hand on Warren's ass cheeks slipping between them, rubbing against his rim. Warren's asshole tightened at the touch, his hips snapping with each thrust into Bobby's mouth. 

When he came, it was with a low throaty groan of relief. 

Bobby swallowed, taking all of it, before he sat back on his knees. He dragged a hand over his lips.

Without saying anything, he tucked Warren's dick back into his pants, carefully pressing it and his balls to the left. He pulled up his pants and then cautiously zipped them closed. Still on his knees, he did the belt buckle back up then placed his palm over Warren's softening dick. Warren practically whimpered.

"Okay, we're even," Bobby said, standing up. Warren immediately pulled him into a kiss, his hands on the sides of Bobby's face, his tongue fucking into Bobby's mouth, tasting himself. Bobby's cock was impossibly hard, but he wanted the feeling to last longer, so he ignored it. Later, he promised himself 

Because there was still a later to look forward to.

* * *

The rest of the night passed like a dream. They spent it dancing, drinking and lazily kissing on the upper deck with everyone else trying to steal another moment. It was half an hour before they saw Rictor and Shatterstar again. He and Warren had been in the middle of a pretty heavy make-out session at the time but separated when they heard Rictor's familiar snort. Bobby's eyes widened immediately.

"Oh, wow," he said, speaking to Shatterstar, who was dressed in a silver pantsuit. "Is that authentic?"

"It was a gift from my mother," Shatterstar replied. 

"And how are you handling this?" Bobby asked, turning to Rictor, who looked a little stunned. He was dressed exactly like Bobby had expected him to dress, considering the theme, the eighties punk vibes strong with him. He didn't even think Rictor had bought anything new, just pulled from his own closet. 

"Not well," he admitted, "but hey, I'm doing better than your voice is. Like, holy shit, dude."

"Mind your own fucking business," Bobby muttered, ignoring Warren's self-satisfied smirk. He hadn't said anything, but he didn't really need to, not when he was standing there with the relaxed pose of a man who had recently gotten his brains sucked out through his dick. "And you, stop looking at me."

"Nah," Warren said, tilting his hips slightly, the sea breeze ruffling his loose hair.

Rictor shook his head. "And you say we're bad."

"You two are literally the worst."

"Whatever," Rictor said with another derisive scoff. "I'm ready to party. If Star squeezed into that disco monstrosity doesn't kill me first anyway. I have no idea what Ali was thinking when she gave you that."

"I asked to borrow it," Shatterstar told him. 

"That's the least surprising thing I've heard all night," Rictor replied, and Bobby pleasantly gave him the finger. Laughing, Rictor shoved him as they all headed back down towards the dance floor. Behind them, Warren and Shatterstar walked side by side, chatting, two extremes from the same decade.

They danced for a while as a group, shouted at each other over the music in the booze line, and danced some more. A Dazzler song came on, and Shatterstar ended up on one of the raised platforms, lip-syncing to the song. That jumpsuit wasn't doing kind things to his body. Ali was seven inches shorter and quite a bit thinner than her secret son that nobody, including most of the X-Men, knew about.

It should have been ridiculous, but Bobby couldn't stop watching him.

"He was a star on Mojoworld for a reason," Rictor shouted. "He's a born performer."

"No kidding," Bobby replied. Now that he knew what to look for, he saw echoes of Ali all over. 

Bobby tried to stretch the rest of the night out, wanting it to last forever, but his tolerance for loud music and pushy bodies really had diminished over the years. As much as he was enjoying having Warren dance behind him, his denim-covered cock pressing into Bobby's lower back, he was tired.

"I'm thinking about bowing out," Bobby said, speaking directly into Warren's ear. 

"Works for me," Warren replied, "or should I say 'yes, sir'?" 

Bobby ignored him, doing his part to keep Warren just a little humble. He shuffled over to Rictor and Shatterstar, who were all up in each other's space, dancing to a completely different song. "Hey," he shouted. "Warren and I are gonna head to bed. See you at check out tomorrow? Maybe breakfast?" 

"Sounds good. Give us a call when you're awake!" Rictor shouted back. He grinned. "Have fun."

Bobby gave him the finger again. When he turned around, Warren was already there, waiting.

* * *

The walk back to the room was a quiet one, Bobby keenly aware of Warren's presence behind him. They were in the room for less than a second, the door barely closed, before Warren was kissing him. "I want to fuck you over that couch," he murmured, biting at Bobby's lip. "While you're in this uniform."

"Better make a show of it then," Bobby replied. "So all my shipmates know I was fucked by a rockstar."

Warren growled at that, low in his throat, and then it was on. Warren bent him over the back of the couch, yanking his trousers down and baring his ass in one swift movement. For a second, Bobby thought Warren was going to rim him, which caused his brain to melt, but he just pressed two hands into the flesh of Bobby's ass cheeks, parting them to reveal the pucker of flesh hidden between. 

Warren's breath caught as he looked at him. "You look so good like this," he said, "spread wide open."

Bobby groaned. "Come on, Warren. I've waited all fucking night."

"You did, didn't you? Sucked my cock like a champion then didn't ask for anything in return. You could have," Warren said, stepping back. Bobby heard him moving around, getting ready. "I would have done anything you wanted after you took my cock into your throat so nicely. You just needed to ask me." 

"I'm asking now," Bobby replied. "Fuck me."

Warren's cock nudged up against him, hard and slick, and his hand roughly spread lube between Bobby's legs. Without any more prep, Warren started pushing into him, inch by agonizing inch. Warren's fingers, still wet, dug into the flesh of Bobby's ass, holding Bobby completely still. Bobby closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of fullness as his body stretched to take him until Warren bottomed out.

Bobby clenched around him as Warren stood there, not moving, just letting Bobby feel it. When he was ready, Bobby started pushing back at him, begging him to move. Warren's thrusts started shallow, slowly picking up the pace until he was fucking Bobby exactly like they both wanted him to.

Warren's hand, still slippery, curled around his cock and started stroking him in time with his thrusts. Bobby scrambled to hold onto something for purchase, his legs bound by the fabric of his pants. He usually played a more active role, flexible enough for basically any position, but like this, Warren controlled everything. The angle, the speed, the determined squeeze of his hand on Bobby's cock.

It just felt so fucking good. 

Worked up all evening after denying himself, Bobby came with a groan all over the back of the couch. 

"So tight around my cock," Warren murmured appreciatively. "So pretty when you come." Bobby pushed back at him, barely moving, urging him on, and when Warren pulled him to a stand, changing the angle to an extreme one, Bobby tipped his head back and gasped. "So fucking hot on the inside."

"Make me hotter," Bobby begged. "I want you to come. Fill me with it. Make me remember it."

Warren's thrusts became choppy, short drives directly against Bobby's prostate, his fingers digging into Bobby's belly, into his chest. His mouth, wet and hot against Bobby's neck, pressed fervent kisses into his skin. If this was the very last time ever, Bobby would be okay with that. It'd destroy him, reduce him to nothing, but he'd always remember the desperate little sounds Warren had made in his ear.

He'd always remember that Warren had fucking _loved_ it. 

With one last pulse of his hips, Warren came, arms tight around Bobby, face buried in his hair.

They stood there for a long time, Warren pressed to his back, wrapped around him. Eventually, Warren pulled out, stroking Bobby's hip when he murmured in protest. Just a little longer, he wanted to say, but he didn't know how. Instead, he just kept his eyes half-closed and let Warren guide him upstairs to bed. 

Neither of them slept, not immediately. They just lay there together, breathing in unison, snuggled up tight. Despite the thoughts rattling around in his head, not all of them good, Bobby couldn't stop smiling, not when Warren was looking back at him, his own easy smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

Bobby let himself feel every emotion he'd ever kept hidden, and in that moment, he was utterly free.


	9. The Final Day

Bobby woke up deliciously sore with Warren spread over his back, snoring into his ear. A bleary glance at the clock confirmed it was too early to be awake, but check out was only hours away, and he hadn't even started packing yet. Probably should have done that instead of fucking Warren last night. This was why it had taken him so long to become a leader of an X-team. His priorities were always screwed up.

Carefully extricating himself, Bobby sat up. He padded into the bathroom and plopped down on the toilet, scrubbing his hands through his hair. He'd didn't actually think he'd had that much to drink, but he felt absolutely wrung out. Rictor had warned him about post-cruise depression, so maybe that was it.

Deciding a shower would help to clear his head, Bobby did that next, the water so hot it was steaming. It felt good on his tender muscles. He snorted softly. He'd told Warren to make him remember it, and right now, every inch of him did in perfect, aching detail. He should have stayed in bed, just in case Warren was up for another round, but that had always been Bobby's problem. He wanted too much.

Turning off the water, Bobby wrapped a towel around his waist and went back into the bedroom.

The bed was empty. From downstairs, he could hear the sound of the shower.

Bobby pulled on a pair of clean briefs and jeans, the denim soft and ripped at the knees. With a sigh, he put his empty suitcase on the mattress. At least his clothes were pretty organized, making packing easier. Warren wasn't going to have the same luck. Bobby imagined he'd just stuff everything inside.

He was rolling up the last of his t-shirts when Warren reappeared, wearing only a towel. 

"Hey," he said, giving Bobby one of those casual Warren smiles. 

"Hey," Bobby replied without the same level of ease. Warren gave him a questioning look, but Bobby just plowed on, pretending he hadn't noticed. "If you can be quick about packing, we can probably squeeze in breakfast before, like, we all scatter to the wind. If you're hungry, of course."

Warren considered this proposal then said, "I'll give you a hundred dollars if you pack for me." 

"I'm not packing for you for a hundred bucks," Bobby replied.

"Would you do it for a thousand?"

"Pack your suitcase," Bobby told him, trying to be stern. Warren was ridiculous. "And fold everything."

"Ten thousand?"

Bobby hesitated. That was a lot of money. Especially considering he'd wolfed down a two-pound burger in less than a minute to save four bucks, with Hank as the immediate witness and Warren and Jean there to see the aftermath. "You would pay me ten thousand dollars just to pack your suitcase?"

"You and I both know that's pocket change to me," Warren replied. "Best offer. Take it or leave it."

"If I wasn't so worried about my parents' retirement savings, I'd have a little more dignity about shit like this, but unfortunately I do their taxes." Bobby walked over to the closet and grabbed Warren's line of suits, bringing them back to the bed. Warren was already naked. "Pick what you want to wear today."

"Yes, sir."

Bobby flushed a little at that, flashing back to the night before, but he wasn't going to let himself get distracted. Packing, then food, and then back to his sad personal life and the X-Men. Ideally, his team hadn't imploded during his absence, although the papers he was supposed to grade were welcome to. 

"Are we okay?" Warren asked suddenly.

"Aren't we always?" Bobby replied, deflecting as usual. He sighed. "We're fine. Everything's fine."

"You sure you don't..."

"Warren," Bobby said sharply, cutting him off, "just drop it. At least until I've had coffee."

" _Cranky_ ," Warren muttered, shaking his head as Bobby distracted himself with Warren's clothes.

* * *

Bobby got Warren packed. After a quick phone call to Rictor and Shatterstar's room, they agreed to meet at the main dining room, since it was supposed to be less busy on disembarkation day. As much as Bobby would miss the buffet and its limitless bacon, this option was probably better for his heart. 

They arrived first. Bobby sat down in a chair as Warren stood at the entrance, looking over the menu. One guy, clearly in desperate need of caffeine, walked straight into Warren's wings. Bobby snickered as a hilarious exchange between Warren, this baffled guy and his howling friends quickly followed. 

Warren came over to sit on the armrest of Bobby's chair. He looked a little flustered, and Bobby sobered immediately. Making fun of Warren was only worth it when Warren was in on the joke. "Everything else was stellar, but I'm definitely not going to miss feeling like I'm in everyone's way."

"It's because you're so relaxed," Bobby said wisely, applying his years of observation. "If you weren't, you'd be holding your wings tighter. Unless you're, like, extra happy, and then they kinda... fan out."

"I didn't realize you were such an expert."

It was said with such warm affection that Bobby felt his cheeks heat. This not flirting outrageously with Warren thing wasn't not going well so far, but he had to remain strong. For the first time in his life, he hoped Sentinels attacked the minute they got back home. He desperately needed the distraction. 

Though Rictor and Shatterstar would have to do, Bobby thought bitterly as they ambled up, hand in hand, looking all starry-eyed. He wished he could make fun of them, but he could count on two hands how many X-Men had married. The number that had stayed together even a year was downright depressing. Maybe it was a mutant thing, being this bad at relationships, and not a Bobby thing at all.

* * *

Breakfast was fine. Bobby knew he was being quiet, but he was feeling a little weepy for a myriad of real and imagined reasons. He should have also taken Monday off. One full day to recover had sounded reasonable at the time, but he already knew it wasn't going to be enough. He should have known.

He needed more vacations. Maybe having the X-Men be his entire life was actually a huge problem. 

"Is he okay?" Rictor asked, speaking to Warren. 

"He didn't have a lot of sleep, and he's in a bad mood because of it."

"Wow, Ric was right," Bobby said, cutting in. "It actually is pretty fucking annoying when people talk about you like you're not sitting right there."

"I'm sure gonna miss seeing you on the daily," Rictor said, probably intending to be sarcastic, but it just kind of came out like Bobby was feeling, deflated and depressed. "You'll feel better in a few days if that's what has you feeling so down. And if it's something else, well, maybe try to use your words." 

"You are honestly terrible at cheering people up."

"It's the effort that counts," Shatterstar said, which must have been a joke because Rictor laughed.

Bobby grumbled into his french toast, but he did feel a little better. Rictor and Shatterstar were extra clingy with each other, so he assumed they were also feeling sad about the cruise ending. As for Warren... who knew? He had that polite facade on his face that Bobby hated. Bobby probably deserved it. 

"Sorry," he said after breakfast, once they had all split up to kill their final few hours aboard the ship. 

Warren squeezed the back of his neck. "It's okay. It's not like I don't know exactly who you are."

"It was nice not being me for a week," Bobby admitted, trying to make it sound like it was a joke, but it came out flat with a twist of bitterness. X-Men got stuck in time loops more often than people probably should, so why couldn't it have happened now, when he actually wanted to repeat an experience?

Bobby exhaled. Story of his life. All the good things were so fleeting.

Back in the room, Bobby put both suitcases by the door and did one last look around, since it had to be done. Warren went over their bill. Rictor and Shatterstar's room was also on it, and Bobby almost choked when he saw how much money Warren had paid for both, on top of what was being comped. 

They had enough stuff leftover in their mini-fridge to make screwdrivers, so Bobby got to doing that. 

They sat out on the balcony together and had one last drink. 

"To a great vacation," Warren said, offering his glass. Bobby clinked his against it. 

"Thanks for bailing me out," Bobby replied and then added, because he was him and he couldn't help himself, "You really went above and beyond." Even though it hurt a little to hit the punchline, the smile Warren gave him was worth it. It was a rare thing to get a real one from Warren Worthington the Third.

"I have a condo in Miami," Warren said suddenly. "I think we should go there and talk."

Bobby groaned. Typical Warren. "Ugh, don't ruin it, dude." 

" _You_ don't ruin it," Warren snapped, legitimately angry, and Bobby immediately sat up straighter, ready to take the conversation a little more seriously. He tried to temper all the feelings bubbling up inside him. He refused to hope. Not yet. "You're acting like this is somehow over just because the cruise is."

"What else was I supposed to think?"

"That maybe I'm not a complete asshole?"

Bobby pressed his lips together, deflating. "Okay, that's fair. But Shatterstar is our ride home."

"Bobby, I could buy a fucking airline if I wanted to. I will make some calls and get us home tomorrow."

"Sure, okay, we'll talk. Until then, just let me sit here and enjoy my drink."

"You're taking a fucking nap before that, too," Warren grumbled. Secretly, Bobby agreed it was needed.

* * *

Rictor took the news with more grace than Bobby expected. He'd expected to get his balls busted a little, but Rictor just shrugged and said, "okay. Text me or something if you want to do dinner." Delivered with nonchalance, but in Rictor-speak, it definitely meant he wanted all the juicy details. 

"If for some reason you are unable to return, I would gladly offer my services," Shatterstar added. 

"Thank you," Warren said graciously, clasping Shatterstar on the shoulder. Shatterstar went pink.

Rictor rolled his eyes, but he looked fond. There was a moment of hesitation before they started saying their goodbyes where they obviously didn't know whether to hug or not, but then Rictor literally said, "fuck it," and did it anyway. Bobby suspected the previous naked hugging incident had paved the way.

"You're an idiot," Rictor whispered in his ear, giving him a bone-crushing squeeze. Bobby resisted the urge to ice up in revenge. "And hug Star, too, will you? He won't ask, but it'll make his entire life."

Bobby would have tried anyway, but Warren – maybe overhearing Rictor, maybe not, the eagle ears thing was still probably mostly bullshit – had already gotten to Shatterstar. Bobby, a masterclass hugger, then took his turn, throwing in a couple free back pats, as Rictor and Warren exchanged their own huggy farewells. All in all, the whole thing needed some work, but there was always next year. 

Or at least he hoped so. He supposed he was about to find out. After he took a nap, anyway. 

Bobby waved as Rictor and Shatterstar teleported back to New York. Then it was just him and Warren. They dragged their luggage to the taxi stand and waited for one to become available. Looking up at Warren, Bobby tried to read his expression, but Warren gave him nothing, his mask firmly in place.

* * *

The condo was exactly what Bobby expected. Top floor, huge, full of modern furniture and a wraparound balcony. The ocean view was amazing. Not that Warren gave him much time to admire it. With a hand to Bobby's lower back, he steered him into the master bedroom. "Sleep," he said firmly.

"You know, I'm not a cranky toddler you need to put down for a nap."

"I just want you to chill out, and I know the easiest way to do that is get you more sleep." Warren tugged the covers down, staring at Bobby until Bobby sighed and climbed into them. "Normally, I would just fuck you into a good mood, but I think that's part of the problem. So we go with plan B."

"What about you?" Bobby asked, flushing despite himself. "You barely slept either."

"I was going to conk out in one of the guest rooms."

"Will you just get in here?" Bobby said, vaguely exasperated. He understood that Warren was trying to be respectful of his feelings and shit, but he'd sleep a hell of a lot better with his best snuggle partner.

Warren sighed, but he climbed under the sheets with Bobby, both of them fully dressed. It had the potential to be stifling, but Bobby's powers would compensate, at least for him. He just hoped Warren didn't mind cuddling with a block of ice. More than one person had complained about that in the past. 

Bobby expected his body to fight sleep, especially with how his mind was racing, but the exhaustion quickly took over. His thoughts were silenced by the heavy arm Warren had laid across his waist and the press of his chest against Bobby's back. The sheets smelled fresh, as if they'd just been washed.

* * *

They slept until mid-afternoon. When Bobby awoke, he felt much more human. Warren snuffled in his ear, also awake but clearly not in any hurry to go anywhere. It was nice, comfortable, usually the sort of thing he'd want to go on forever, but he needed to get this part over with first. The talking part. The truth part. The worst part. Speaking like this with his romantic partners always ended up the same way. 

_Bobby, it's not me, it's you. Maybe we'd be better off as friends. You're way too... you. Sorry! Bye!_

"Can we just do this?" Bobby asked. 

"Yeah," Warren replied, pulling back. "Let me put together some refreshments. Meet outside?"

"Sure, fine." Bobby sat up and scratched a hand through his hair as Warren left the room, disappearing down the hallway. Bobby ducked into the bathroom real quick to pee then headed outside onto the balcony. There were several stylish arrangements of chairs to pick from. He chose the comfiest one. 

Eventually, Warren came out with a tray of drinks and a plate of cookies. 

"If we want anything else to eat, we're going to have to order in. I have no idea how old these are."

"I'm not one to turn down cookies, not even stale ones," Bobby assured him. 

Warren sat down in the opposite chair. He took one of the drinks off the tray and held it without drinking it. "So do you want to tell me why you've been acting like a dick to me since you woke up?"

Bobby exhaled sharply. "I wasn't acting like a dick to you," he explained. "I was preemptively protecting myself so that when you inevitably crushed my fucking heart, it wouldn't hurt so much."

Warren frowned. "What do you think is going on here?"

"Other than you might be Mystique? Or, like, a fucking Skrull?"

Warren gave him a flat look. " _Bobby._ "

"I don't know," Bobby admitted, grabbing the second drink. Unlike Warren, he took a big gulp of it, pleased to discover it was boozy. "Part of me thinks you were just, I don't know, starved for touch. In the biggest dry spell of your life. A giant exhibitionist. And I was an easy solution to the problem."

"What does the other part of you think?"

"The other part thinks nothing ever works out for me, so why would this be the exception?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Warren asked. 

"You're not gay for one thing."

"You're right. I'm not gay," Warren said easily, a dagger through Bobby's heart even though he'd known, of course he'd known. But Warren continued on, "But I am bisexual. I thought you knew that."

Bobby groaned. "How the fuck would I know that, Warren?"

"Because I came out," Warren replied. At Bobby's blank look – he would have remembered that, thanks – Warren sighed deeply. "Bobby, you were there when I told the world I was a mutant. Do you remember how I did that? One day, I just took off my mask. You know I don't do big announcements."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I guess I could have been more explicit," Warren admitted.

"Then why didn't you say anything before?" Bobby asked, weirdly angry. "At least to me?" 

Warren finally took a drink. His lips thinned into a line as he thought about how to answer. Bobby just waited for him to continue, feeling the ire begin to ebb in his chest. To think, all those years, he might have not felt so alone. But it was pointless to blame Warren for that. Bobby hadn't said anything either. 

"It's complicated," Warren finally said, staring down into his glass. "One of the answers is li'l Warren asked me not to, especially after li'l Bobby told him what you had said about being attracted to me. I felt I owed him that much. I mean, he found me so horrific that he made sure he wouldn't become me."

"No offence, but li'l Warren was maybe not one of the great thinkers of our time."

Warren snorted. "Maybe not. But at that point in his life, all he knew is that sometimes he hooked up with other guys and one time his dad caught him. I still don't know what exactly he was angrier about, that I had done it at all or that I had been dumb enough to get caught. It was easier to date women." 

"Yeah, I get that," Bobby agreed softly. He tried to smile. "Congrats on coming out." 

"Thanks."

"Is that why you hate your phone?" 

"I'm told a high-profile mutant going on a gay cruise without hiding his wings is newsworthy."

"Slow news day, I guess," Bobby replied. "Did you come on this cruise expecting to hook up with me?"

Warren shrugged. "I guess I considered the possibility. It's not like we've really been single at the same time before. And I've spent the last two years completely fucked up. I mean, I'm still fucked up, but whatever X did to me, at least I have some control back. But heir apparent to Apocalypse isn't a feature, Bobby."

"Well, it's never bothered me."

"Don't you see why I might find that attractive? Might find _you_ attractive?" Warren put his drink back down and sat back, wings fanned behind him. "Ever since you came out, you've had this... vibe about you. I thought you were attractive before, but this you, this _real_ you, is so hot, dude. You have no idea."

Bobby felt his face heat. "Okay," he said. Nothing witty, nothing sharp. Just a mumbled _okay_.

"And then to find out how compatible we are in bed?" Warren exhaled sharply. "Wow. Just wow."

"Okay, I'll give you that one," Bobby said, failing to hold back his grin. He resisted doing a fist pump. It had been some of the best sex of his life, and the idea that it could become even better was mind-blowing. "But I can't just sleep with you. I need more, and if you can't give me that, it's a deal-breaker." 

"Long-term relationship is basically my middle name."

"I thought that was Kenneth," Bobby replied, never one to resist a bad joke. "But seriously, Warren."

"I'm willing to try," Warren said. "But the question is... are you? You don't seem happy about this."

That was the problem with talking about shit like this with a guy who had known him for almost half his life. Warren knew all his tells. "I like the idea of it," he admitted, impressed with how even he was keeping his voice. "But in reality, I'm worried this is a rebound, and I don't want to waste you on that." 

"Bad timing is really our thing, isn't it?"

Bobby smiled weakly. "It's beginning to feel like that." He placed down his empty glass, having no memory of finishing it. "I keep making the same mistake, Warren, over and over. I get too serious too fast, hoping the person I'm with doesn't notice how... me I am, but they always do, and then they leave."

"I already know who you are," Warren replied. "I know you better than just about anyone."

"Pretty sure you're number one now. Between Scott and Jean's various deaths and Hank's questionable ethics, there's not a lot of competition," Bobby admitted with a shrug, pretending it didn't bother him, but he could tell by the look in Warren's eyes that he wasn't fooling anyone. "It's not just that, though."

Warren didn't say anything, clearly assuming the worst. 

"It has nothing to do with you," Bobby said. He couldn't believe he was about to confess this, but Warren had to know it wasn't him. "Not, like, entirely. It's just... for so long, you were this... happy place I could retreat to. This daydream I could hide in when it got hard. I was so lonely sometimes."

Warren's expression softened, but that was somehow even worse. Bobby didn't want his sympathy. He just wanted Warren to understand why he wasn't jumping for joy and why his hands were so clammy. 

"It was all I had for so long. This dream of you. I'm terrified of losing it. Does that make sense?"

"It does," Warren said. "But I'm not a dream, Bobby. I wish I could be that for you, but I'm just... real."

"I know that."

"I hope so. Because there's a reason people stopped touching me. No more friendly pats on the back, or accidentally touching my hand when they pass me something, or bumping into me in the hallways. Not intentional, of course, and understandable. I'm not a dream, Bobby. If anything, I'm a nightmare."

"You forget, buddy. I know exactly who you are, too." 

"I'm just saying... I wouldn't blame you if you had second thoughts."

"I just need time, Warren. Not because of you, but because of me."

Warren looked at him for an agonizingly long time, but Bobby refused to squirm uncomfortably. He could have adult conversations and live through them. In theory, anyway. Sometimes he felt like he was decades behind everyone else in maturity, having accidentally missed certain lessons along the way. 

Finally, Warren spoke again. "Okay," he agreed. "I can give you that. You're not the only one who comes on too strong pretty much all of the time." He grinned. "Just let me know when you're ready."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," Warren assured him as if it was really that simple, Bobby only hoped it would be.

* * *

Bobby was worried the rest of the afternoon would be awkward, but Warren seemed perfectly comfortable with their agreed-upon solution. The balcony had a hot tub, and they stripped down right there, climbing into it. Warren kept a respectful distance, head tipped back, enjoying the water. 

"I don't think I've ever sat out here," he said, staring up at the blue sky. "It's nice."

"How long have you had this place?" 

"A few years. I don't get down to Miami very often. The humidity isn't kind to my feathers or my hair."

"Hm," Bobby said, sinking a little lower. He was still sore all over, and the heat and the bubbles were exactly what the doctor ordered. "You'd think I'd be sick of water by now, but nope, still love it."

Warren chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "You've seemed a little... stiff today. Did I hurt you?"

Bobby lifted his head to look at Warren, who peered back at him, visibly concerned. "No," Bobby said easily because it was true. "I asked you to make me feel it, and you did. I'm a little sore, but it's a good sort of sore. We went through the trouble of establishing safe words, dude. Trust me, I enjoyed it." 

"Okay," Warren said, going unexpectedly pink. He added, almost bashfully, "Me too."

It was a bad idea to talk about sex with Warren. Bobby knew it was a bad idea. Just like he knew he was gonna do it anyway. "So I'm pretty confident you've sucked a few dicks in your life. Either you're a natural or you've had practice, and for my sanity, I'm assuming the latter." Warren snorted softly, but he didn't disagree, so Bobby took that to mean he was right. "But you'd never fucked a guy, had you?"

"That was new," Warren confirmed. He made a face. "Was it bad? I've done anal but only with women."

"Not bad," Bobby assured him, ignoring the twist of pleasure low in his belly. "Really great actually."

"Good," Warren said with a pleased little smile. "I have a reputation to protect."

"You definitely didn't disappoint."

Warren chuckled warmly at that, blushing as deeply as Bobby had ever seen him. The steamy water from the hot tub was probably mostly to blame, but Bobby was willing to bet some of that was him. He really was beautiful. More beautiful at that moment than at any time before. Every time, it felt like that.

"I was definitely a little out of practice with sucking a cock, too."

"I didn't notice," Bobby assured him, grinning.

Warren smiled, looking delighted by the flattery, and Bobby felt a sharp pang of longing for him, even though he was the one who had put the brakes on everything. He should have waited, he thought idly. They had a luxury condo all to themselves, and they were technically still on vacation. He was an idiot.

And he definitely wasn't following his own rules when he heard himself ask, "have you ever been fucked?"

"Not with anything bigger than a finger. I think I'd be into it, though. I'm pretty easy about sex."

"You'd look hot as hell on someone's cock."

"It'd be your cock," Warren replied, chewing on his thumbnail, "if it'd be anyone's."

Bobby's brain, which had been valiantly losing the battle to his dick over the last five minutes, went down in flames. "So that time thing we agreed on earlier," he said. "When did you want that to start?"

Warren smirked. "Trying to change the terms of the deal, are we?"

"I'm evoking the _we could both die tomorrow without my dick ever being in your ass_ clause."

Warren cracked up at that, the type of full belly laugh he rarely gave. If that was all he was willing to give Bobby right then, Bobby would take it. It was hard-earned laughter, especially these days. "Okay, so it can either start now," Warren said, "or it can start tomorrow. After you fuck me. Your choice."

"Tomorrow," Bobby said, and Warren offered his hand. Giggling at each other, they shook on it.

* * *

Knowing they were both pretty useless after orgasm, they ordered dinner first from the Thai place across the street. Warren showered quickly before going to pick up the food. While he was gone, Bobby took his own brisk one, scrubbing the chlorine from the hot tub off his skin. Skipping underwear, he dressed in a tank top and basketball shorts. He then unpacked the condoms and lube from his suitcase along with a pack of cleansing wipes and a small bottle of mouthwash, placing an empty glass beside it. 

Afterwards, he turned on the TV and watched baseball until Warren returned, leg bouncing impatiently.

They really could both die tomorrow, he told himself. He was still going to take his time with this.

Warren returned just as the game hit the fifth inning. Neither of them were invested in the teams playing, but it was a good distraction as they ate, sitting around the coffee table on the shag carpet. Just to prove to himself that he was not completely controlled by his own dick, Bobby watched till the end. 

Mercifully, the game didn't go into extra innings and test his less-than-ironclad resolve. 

"Ready?" Bobby asked after they cleaned up. Warren had surprised him and actually helped. 

"Ready," Warren said, letting Bobby take his hand and guide him into the bedroom. 

They undressed – Bobby draping his clothing over a chair, Warren leaving his in a pile on the floor – and then they looked at each other with mirrored smiles. And down below, they were the same there, too, cocks hard with anticipation. Bobby had pretty much been sporting wood since the fourth inning, when he'd started watching the game, but he hadn't been sure about Warren until right that second.

"How do you want to do this?" Bobby asked. 

"These things," he gestured to his wings, "kind of limit what I can do comfortably. I want to see you."

"On my lap then," Bobby replied, wetting his lips, "after a little prep. So hands and knees first, Flyboy."

Warren climbed onto the bed, assuming the position. Bobby admired him for a long moment, gazing at the round swell of his ass and his cock and balls hanging between his legs, before approaching the bed and running his hands over Warren's skin, pulling some of the tension out with each swipe of his palms. 

"You're nervous," Bobby said. "You don't have to be. I'll take very good care of you."

"I know you will," Warren replied, dropping his head forward when Bobby squeezed his buttocks, parting them to reveal his hairless asshole. _That waxer has to be stopped_ , Bobby thought, feeling a little hysterical. He squeezed Warren again, earning a groan this time, then pressed his face against him.

Still clean from his shower, his skin smelled like the same soap that Bobby had used. Bobby imagined Warren washing, getting ready for this, pressing his tongue to the puckered ring of flesh and licking. 

"Fuck," Warren hissed, pushing back at his face. Bobby licked him again and again and again until Warren's back was arched and his wings were spread out, twitching perceptibly. His hole flexed against Bobby's tongue, wet and relaxed, and Bobby pressed his thumb gently to the ring of muscle, testing. 

"Okay," Bobby said, giving Warren a swat on the butt. "That was step one."

Warren dropped his head to his forearms and groaned. He made an extremely pretty picture, Bobby thought, as he quickly rinsed his mouth with mouthwash then spit it into the cup. He took one of the wipes and dragged it over his lips, aware of Warren's pale eyes on him, the question in them plain 

"I was planning on kissing you," he explained. "Unless that's not covered by the clause?"

"It's fine," Warren said faintly. "We can include it."

"So generous," Bobby replied. 

"I wouldn't have cared," Warren added, looking deliciously flustered. 

"Duly noted," Bobby said, flipping the cap on the lube and pouring a healthy amount over his fingers. He rubbed them against Warren's still-wet asshole, a goodly amount dripping down his thighs. Warren had tensed up again, just a bit, so Bobby patiently coaxed him back to relaxation, massaging his rim. 

When Warren sighed a little, head tipped, Bobby stuck the first finger in, glad that it slid in easily. He fucked him like that for a while before adding a second one, stretching him. He added more lube, working it inside Warren, deeper and deeper, until the pads of his fingers poked at Warren's prostate. 

Warren's wings flapped uncontrollably, sending the glass of mouthwash to the floor with a crash. 

Warren started giggling into his forearms, and Bobby couldn't help it and joined in, his fingers still hooked in Warren's asshole. They laughed for a few minutes until Warren started squirming. Moving his fingers, Bobby fucked him with long, measured strokes as Warren's wings fluttered beautifully.

"Man, these things are great, feedback-wise."

"Yeah," Warren said shakily, pushing back on Bobby's fingers, so ready. "They do that sometimes."

Bobby pulled his fingers out, wiping them on the corner of the bed sheets. He reached for a condom, carefully tearing the package and rolling the latex over his dick. Grabbing the lube, he slicked himself up, careful not to touch his cock too much. This was not going to be one of his longer performances. 

With the lube clutched in one hand, he used the other to guide Warren by the hip to an expensive-looking chaise lounge. Bobby had previously dismissed it as a snooty design element, but it would serve a purpose now. He sat down and drew Warren over him, spreading more lube between his legs.

"Take it nice and easy," Bobby told him, stroking his bare hips. 

Warren nodded. He bowed his head, his sweaty hair falling into his face. Bobby lifted his hands and pushed it back, giving those eagle eyes something else to focus on. Shifting around, Warren rubbed over the head of Bobby's cock as he searched for the right angle. His lips made an O when he found it.

"Slow," Bobby reminded him as Warren began to sink down, thighs shaking with the strain. 

"You feel huge," Warren muttered, exhaling. He was tight but that had helped him loosen a bit. He took another inch of Bobby's cock. Bobby wasn't even sure if he was enjoying it yet – or if he was going to – but Warren didn't look like he wanted to stop either. If anything, he looked like he wanted to be kissed.

So Bobby guided Warren's head down, kissing his parted lips. He moved his hands back to Warren's hips, rubbing over the warm skin there, and Warren rocked against him, a sensual roll of his ass. Bobby's cock slipped in even deeper, maybe a little too fast, but Warren gasped prettily into his mouth.

"There you go," Bobby said, licking over his lips. "It's all you right now. You're almost there."

Warren's kisses grew fiercer, his hips bucking in Bobby's hands as he began to find a rhythm, fucking himself on Bobby's aching cock, lower and lower, until he was seated, completely filled up. He clenched around Bobby, impossibly tight, getting used to the sensation, holding there, hot and tight. 

Bobby dug his fingers into Warren's skin hard enough to leave bruises. "You feel so good," he gasped.

"I have to move," Warren said, pressing down on him, rocking on his thighs. Warren's cock, stuck between their bellies, was back to full hardness, and Bobby took it in his hand, holding him. Warren keened, his wings stretching behind him, and he started fucking himself on Bobby's dick in earnest. 

Breaking their kiss, Warren leaned back, one hand on Bobby's shoulder, the other arm loose behind him. His hips lifted and fell, bolder each time, and his stomach was tight and flat, begging to be coated in his own come. Bobby started stroking him faster, feeling his own powerful orgasm begin to rise. 

But Bobby wanted Warren to come first, to feel how it felt to have a cock buried deep when he did.

Bobby's hand moved furiously over the length of Warren's cock, bringing him over the edge. Warren clenched around him as he spurted all over his belly and chest, leaving glistening trails of come on his skin. Removing his hand from Warren's sensitive cock, Bobby slid his palm through the shiny mess.

Warren rolled his hips again, looked down at Bobby through half-closed eyes, clenching over and over, and Bobby came with a groan, one hand braced on Warren's chest, the other still dug into his hip. 

Once Bobby had come down a bit, Warren smiled at him then carefully, with a hilarious little grimace, pulled off. There was lube everywhere – Bobby's thighs, Warren's thighs, all over the chaise lounge and the bed and the floor in between them. Combined with the shattered glass, the room looked destroyed. 

"Good thing I'm made of money," Warren said. 

"All your hard work has finally led to this moment," Bobby replied, laughing. 

Warren grinned. Fucked out – or just a slob, but in this one instance, Bobby would let him get away with it – Warren climbed onto the bed and collapsed on his belly. With his last remaining brain cell, Bobby went into the bathroom and wet a towel. He wiped Warren off as he grumbled at him, and then did his best with the chaise lounge and his own slippery groin. He cleaned up the broken glass last.

"Do you want me to sleep in the guest room?" Bobby asked, almost as an afterthought. 

"You just fucked my brains out, and I'd like to cuddle now," Warren muttered into his pillow.

"Yeah, I guess it's not tomorrow yet," Bobby said, pulling the covers up around them. Warren immediately snuggled close, curling into Bobby's body. He put his hand over the thump of Bobby's heart and drifted off to sleep. Bobby lay there for a little while longer and just looked at him.


	10. The End

They returned to real life. Warren got them on a late morning flight out of Miami. Bobby had flown first class before, always with Warren, but it never failed to excite. Warren spent the entire flight on his phone, answering emails, while Bobby watched a movie and ate and drank everything he was offered. 

Bobby couldn't help but think he was making a huge mistake, but he couldn't trust himself on this.

If he fucked this up with Warren... he couldn't even finish that thought. It was too awful to consider. 

He resolved to not fuck this up. Stranger things had happened. In theory, anyway. 

They took a taxi from the airport to Bobby's apartment. The driver put their suitcases on the sidewalk as Warren thumbed through a stack of cash, pulling out more bills than needed, even with tip. Bobby sat back and just watched the exchange that followed, living vicariously through Warren's generosity. 

It would be a lot more aggravating if he didn't know that Warren was a fundamentally good person. Even after all the Apocalypse shit, the guy who just wanted to help people and do the right thing was still there. Bobby had no idea why other people couldn't see it. It was pretty fucking obvious to him.

As the taxi drove away, Warren turned to him, half-smiling. "I should probably get going," he said.

"Okay," Bobby replied. The alternative, inviting Warren up, would probably just lead to more sex.

"Give me a call, I guess. Or a text." Warren exhaled sharply, following it up with a shaky little laugh. "I'm terrified you're going to realize I'm a bad deal," he confessed, looking chagrined at the admission.

"Same," Bobby replied, feeling equally vulnerable. "But I just need..."

Warren cut him off. "Time. I know." He smiled again, and it almost looked real. "See you around."

Warren's wings lifted, but before he could take off, Bobby stepped into his space, putting his hands on his face and kissing him, his only intention to offer comfort. Warren bent his brow against Bobby's, and they stood there like that for a long time. _Please don't let this be another mistake_ , Bobby thought.

After one last touch of their lips, Warren stepped back. "I'll wire you the money."

"For what?" Bobby asked, confused. 

"For the suitcase packing," Warren replied, wings lifting again. "I'm a man of my word."

"I know you are," Bobby said as Warren took off, looking back at Bobby over his shoulder, smiling.

_And I'm an idiot_ , Bobby thought, watching Warren get smaller and smaller until he eventually vanished from sight. Not news to anyone who knew him, but it was always nice to have confirmation. With a sigh, Bobby grabbed his suitcase and headed inside. Home sweet home, or something like that anyway.

* * *

Bobby spent the rest of Sunday alternating between feeling sorry for himself and jerking off thinking about how mind-blowing the sex with Warren had been. It wasn't his finest moment, but he'd definitely been more pathetic at various points in his life, though he couldn't think of any in particular right then. 

When both of those things stopped being fun, he typed up his debrief for Kitty and printed it out. 

Sunday night, he slept like the dead and woke up early to his alarm dragging him out of a sexy dream. He jerked off again in the shower, wishing Warren was in there with him, fingers digging into his hips and cock buried deep in his ass. Ass clenching, empty and wanting, he came with a groan over the tiles. 

After sniffing at his milk, he ate a bowl of Cheerios before heading over to the X-Mansion. He made sure to grab the eleven pages of inanity he had written out the night before for maximum suffering. If Kitty was going to make him do stuff like this, then she was going to have just as bad a time as him. 

"Here," Bobby said, putting the document on her desk. "First thing Monday morning as requested."

"Great," Kitty replied without looking up from her laptop. "Anything else to report?"

"Nope."

"No surprise marriages?"

"Not involving me," Bobby replied. "As far as I know Warren didn't get married either."

Kitty finally looked up, the stalemate broken. The annoying thing, Bobby thought, was how many people knew about what he'd said to li'l Bobby about Warren. It was like that kid had been intentionally trying to make his life even more miserable than it was by default. "So how did that go with him?"

"Fine," Bobby said pleasantly. 

Kitty narrowed her eyes, and Bobby felt his resolve start to waver. She was a good sounding board for stuff, marginally more sympathetic than Rictor, but Bobby wasn't sure if he wanted this to get out yet. At least not any further than it already was. Rictor and Shatterstar would keep their mouths shut. If he told anyone else, it would probably be Hank, even with all the awkwardness currently between them.

So to minimize the embarrassment when this all went to shit, Bobby didn't say anything. 

"Okay, you can go away now," Kitty said, after a moment of staring at each other. "Welcome back."

"Thanks," Bobby replied. He almost said he was glad to be back, but he didn't feel like lying again. Except for the one lie he'd carried until li'l Jean messed everything up, he was bad at it, anyway.

* * *

Bobby dithered for a few days before finally going to see Hank. 

It wasn't like Bobby wasn't busy. He had his own X-Men team now, and he was determined not to half-ass it. And he still taught classes a few times a week. He spent a fair amount of time dodging Rictor's increasingly exasperated texts, too. His apartment was currently spotless. So, yeah, he was pretty busy.

But he didn't text Warren, and Warren didn't text him. No time, he assured himself. 

The first time he ducked his head into Hank's lab, he legitimately wasn't there. Bobby hung around for five minutes before leaving, determined to try again the next day. And then he wasn't there again, but at least this time Bobby left him a note that he had been there and he'd try again tomorrow morning at ten.

And the next day, Hank was there waiting for him.

"Bobby," he said.

"Hank," Bobby replied. "Can I come in?"

Hank gestured widely. "By all means. It's been some time since you've come to visit me in my humble cave." It was said with a twinge of mirth, and Bobby grinned. Hank's office was a disaster as always, books stacked everywhere, various scanners and tablets teetering precariously on edges of tables and desks. It felt comfortable, familiar. Bobby appreciated that. "Is this a professional or personal visit?"

"Both," Bobby replied, sitting down on the closest chair with the least amount of stuff piled on it.

"Okay," Hank said placidly, hands pressed together at the fingertips, held under his nose. 

Bobby decided just to rip the band-aid off. There was no point dancing around Hank when it came to saying things. It wasn't like Hank hadn't been his medical doctor for ages. Still, this was more awkward than he expected. He felt weird and didn't know why. "So I think I'm gonna start dating someone." 

"It's my understanding that your love life has been quite active in recent months."

Bobby didn't know if Hank was making fun of him or not. He supposed it didn't really matter. "I mean, someone it might actually work out with. It's someone we both know. It's, uh, it's Warren, actually."

Hank's eyebrows raised, clearly surprised. "Is he aware of that fact?"

Bobby snorted. Fucking Hank and his wit. "Uh, yes. Trust me. Well aware. The most aware a person has ever been." Bobby tilted his head, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Did you know he came out?"

"The Twitter-sphere has been all abuzz with the news."

"I'm not, like, outing him or anything," Bobby added. "He says this is just how he does things."

"Warren remains an enigma," Hank agreed. "I take it your trip together was eventful then."

"You mean other than the Space Kraken?"

Hank smiled faintly. "Unless it played matchmaker, yes, I mean other than the Space Kraken."

"Ugh, is this when I mention I'm also in here for an STD test?" Bobby asked, face going hot. He had no idea why, except that his body was terrible, and admitting he was planning on having unprotected sex with Warren to Hank was just something he never imagined doing, not even in his wildest dreams.

"Sexual health is important," Hank said, putting on his doctor's voice.

Bobby opted into the full panel. It was over pretty quickly, and Hank was professional as always. 

After the test was done, Bobby stuck around for another hour, shooting the shit and getting caught up on Hank's life and sharing snippets of his own. He seemed to be doing okay, even if he wasn't the same lighthearted Hank of yesteryear. They didn't talk about time travel or the X-Men or anything deep.

Eventually, Hank cleared his throat and said, "unfortunately, Bobby, I have another appointment."

"Yeah, no problem." Bobby stood up. "And, uh, all that stuff about Warren, can you keep it quiet?"

"Of course," Hank said. 

"I'm trying not to fuck this up by, like, coming on too strong. You know me."

"I do indeed," Hank replied. "Until we meet again, Bobby."

Bobby nodded, giving him a weird little half-wave, then walked out of the room and into the hallway, plowing headfirst into someone else. Bobby stepped back, surprised, and a hand settled around his upper arm, steadying him. Recognizing who had caught him immediately, Bobby looked up at Warren. 

Warren smiled at him. "Fancy meeting you here," he said, letting go of Bobby's arm. 

"Yeah, I guess," Bobby replied, blushing again at Warren's knowing gaze. Occasionally, he put two and two together, and he realized Warren was probably Hank's next appointment. Of course Hank never would have told him that. He still took the doctor/patient confidentiality thing seriously, if nothing else.

"It's good to see you," Warren said, clearly meaning it. 

"Yeah, same." Bobby exhaled. "So I kinda told Hank about, like, the potential of us. I hope that's okay."

"I told Jean, so yeah, it's fine," Warren assured him before grinning. "Though a little awkward because of why I'm here."

"Oh, don't worry. I got that covered. I told him and then I immediately asked for an STD test."

Warren chuckled softly. "Great minds think alike," he murmured, leaning into him, putting his mouth close to Bobby's ear. He smelled good, better than usual. All the blood in Bobby's body rushed to his groin. "I'm hoping to fuck this new guy I'm interested in. He'd look hot as hell filled with my come."

Bobby wet his lips with his tongue. He tilted his head towards Warren. "This new guy better be me."

Warren smiled at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. He didn't say anything, just dragged one finger low over Bobby's belly, right above the waistband of his sweatpants. _Fuck,_ Bobby thought, cock painfully hard, _why didn't I wear jeans today?_ Without another word, Warren left him standing there, aching.

* * *

A few days after, Bobby ended up leading a mission that went sideways quickly. They ended up in one of those bullshit dimensions where time passed differently. Instead of being a competent and inspiring leader, he spent the entire time convinced he was never going to see or fuck Warren again, all because he was a clingy pathetic loser who was afraid of being alone and came with a lot of unresolved issues. 

Eventually, they found a way back to earth and discovered that what felt like three weeks to them, turned out to be approximately seventeen minutes on Earth. Nobody had even noticed they were gone. 

He actually took a few days off after that, going down to visit his parents and drop off their gifts from his trip. He intended to stay for four days and left after two, taking his time getting back to his shitty apartment. Collapsing on the couch, he lay there staring at the ceiling for over an hour, unmoving. 

He spent the rest of the afternoon poking around on his laptop, the TV playing in the background. 

He had a few things he wanted to get done. 

First, he looked up local piercers and read through the reviews. He flipped idly through pictures of nipples, trying to decide which look he liked best, rings or bars. It'd be so fucking obvious under his uniform, and he knew he shouldn't do it, but the thought of getting them made him feel good and sexy.

He'd spent so long fighting against what his body and mind both wanted. He was utterly exhausted. 

Before he could second guess himself, he phoned up a place with excellent reviews and made an appointment for the next day. He sat back on the couch and closed his eyes, rubbing his fingers over one of his nipples, tight beneath his shirt. With his other hand, he lazily palmed his hardening dick. 

He imagined Warren playing with his nipples, sucking them between his teeth, tugging on the piercings. Shoving his shorts down to his ankles, he started stroking himself. He thought about sitting on Warren's dick, high enough that his nipples were at mouth level, and how Warren's tongue would work them, wet and hot, as Bobby squirmed on his dick, just begging to be pumped full of his come. 

With his one remaining brain cell, Bobby had the presence of mind to shove his laptop out of the way before he came all over his coffee table in long, thick spurts. He kept his hand on his dick for the aftershocks, just holding himself, and sat there for a long time, breathing hard, almost dizzy with relief. 

He tugged his shorts back up once he had recovered somewhat. After vigorously scrubbing down the table with household cleaner and a fistful of bunched up paper towels, he returned to his to-do list. 

So second, he gave into curiosity and looked online to see what people were saying about Warren. Overall, it was pretty positive, but there were a few dickheads mouthing off. He ended up on a website called Superhero Sex Gossip where Warren had an entire forum dedicated to him. A quick scan of the shit people were posting convinced him that most of these people had never actually slept with him.

The first post was _he's gay :(_ , and Bobby resisted making an account to point out bisexuals existed. 

The next post contained a grainy photo of him and Warren with the title _WW3's new guy???_ That one Bobby actually clicked on and was a little disappointed to find out nobody knew who he was. It made made sense considering the lengths he had gone to over the years to keep his identity secret, but still.

Someone called him a twunk, which he decided he would take as a compliment, regardless of intention.

He clicked out of the thread before he got to the mean stuff. He had Internet-ed before, thanks. 

And third, he finally googled Warren's monkey, just to prove Bobby wasn't completely off base. He texted Warren a link to a website that went into incredibly boring detail about proboscis monkeys. Warren responded immediately with a _WTF_ , and Bobby quickly typed back, _That's your safe word, buddy._

_At least you got four letters right_ , Warren replied after a few minutes. 

Bobby cackled. _You should try using your giant nose to attract a mate like this dude._

Warren didn't respond immediately, and Bobby assumed it was because his superior wit had rendered Warren speechless. When he got up to get a drink of water, his phone buzzed twice. Hurrying back to the couch, he was mid-drink when he looked at his phone. He snorted most of it through his nose. 

The first message read _I would rather use this._ The second message was a picture of his erect cock.

_It'd work on me_ , Bobby replied. _Except I just whacked off thinking about you._

Warren sent a video next, ten seconds of his hand stroking his dick, his moans audible. 

Bobby was still only semi-hard, probably able to get there soon if he pushed it, but he was enjoying the idea of getting Warren off too much to be concerned about his own cock right then. _Wish my mouth was on that gorgeous cock_ , he typed back. _Or my ass stretched tight around you._ He took a drink of water.

_Wish that too._ Warren sent another picture of his cock, glistening head circled by his fingers. 

_I want to see you come. Show me what to expect. All your hot come, dripping out of my hole._

The video that followed was one of the hottest things Bobby had ever seen, and he'd watched a lot of porn in his lifetime. Warren's hand moving furiously over his cock, his belly quivering as it waited for it. Warren's legs spread, his hips tilting up, and Bobby almost swallowed his tongue when he saw the shadow of pubic hair, more a suggestion than anything else, creeping over his balls and his lower belly. 

The video finished just as Warren started to come, jizz shooting between his fingers, out of sight.

A picture followed shortly thereafter of a heavy cock on Warren's belly and come all over his chest. 

_Broke up with your esthetician huh?_ Bobby sent. 

Warren replied quickly. _You aren't exactly subtle about what you like, Frosty. You have a type._

Bobby grinned, excited he'd get to live out his dream of coming on Warren's fuzzy chest sooner than later. He'd only been wanting that for basically forever. He couldn't believe how close it was, how close everything was. _Hot af btw_ , he replied with wobbly fingers. _Gonna rewatch later. Maybe sell videos._

_Funny_ , Warren responded. 

Bobby reached over and grabbed his glass of water. He took a big gulp before typing, _Getting nips pierced tomorrow at 1pm if you wanna come. Don't have to but thought you might be interested._

_I'll be there_ , Warren replied quickly. _With or without BJs._

Bobby laughed, shaking his head. They chatted for a while longer, about nothing of consequence, before Warren said he had to go. Bobby spent the rest of his day curled up on the couch, stuffing himself with pizza, and occasionally letting himself get distracted by all the stuff Warren had sent.

It had turned into a pretty great day.

* * *

Bobby arrived at the piercing place early. While he was waiting for Warren to show up, Rictor texted him. It simply read _Gay Taco Tuesday?_ Which was probably more than Bobby deserved after avoiding his texts for over a week. Or over a month if that weird alternate dimension interlude counted. 

While he was responding, Warren walked up, wings bound under his leather jacket, wearing a black-and-white stripped shirt and grey skinny jeans. He leaned over Bobby's shoulder and asked, "Gay Taco Tuesday? How can tacos be gay?" 

Bobby sent his reply off, shrugging. "We just add gay to everything. I can't remember who started it."

Warren made an amused little sound, leaning in to press a kiss to Bobby's cheek. "And hello."

"Hey," Bobby said, flushing. "Thanks for coming."

"I wouldn't miss it," Warren assured him, opening the door and holding it. "After you."

Bobby smiled and headed inside, walking up to the person working at the desk. He told them who he was then joined Warren in the waiting area, sitting beside him. Warren was already flipping through a magazine. Bobby tried to keep his eyes straight ahead, but they kept straying to the wide neckline of his shirt and the dusting of hair on the top of his pecs. The corners of Warren's mouth turned up knowingly.

He took Bobby's hand and slid it under his shirt, over the beat of his heart. "Happy?" Warren asked.

The skin beneath Bobby's palm was prickly with new hair growth. "You know, you didn't have to."

"I honestly don't give a shit one way or the other," Warren replied. 

Bobby lowered his voice. "I just really want to, like, come on your chest and rub it into your hair."

Warren cracked smiled as he casually flipped to the next page. "Sounds like a great time to me."

A heavily tattooed dude appeared from the backroom. "Bobby?" he called. Ignoring the way Warren laughed at him, low and under his breath, Bobby immediately snatched his palm away from Warren's chest. It was still warm when he shook the guy's hand. "Hey, I'm Tristan. I'll be helping you today." 

"Is it okay if my... my guy comes back with me?" Bobby asked, wincing at the awkward delivery. Could Warren be called a boyfriend if Bobby was still insisting they take their time with this? He was even failing at that, which shouldn't have surprised him but still did. Thankfully, Warren just grinned.

At Tristan's direction, Bobby took off his shirt and climbed onto the chair. Tristan slid a wheeled stool over to Warren, who sat down. Warren leaned on the chair and brushed his knuckles over Bobby's side. His gaze was so intense that Bobby almost asked him to turn around, but he couldn't look away either. 

"We're doing both today?" Tristan asked. 

"Yeah," Bobby replied, his voice coming breathless and wobbly. He hadn't thought he was that nervous.

Tristan smiled. "First piercing?"

Bobby nodded. "I've been thinking about it for a while, and I finally just said fuck it, I want it."

"The very best reason," Tristan said, pulling his tray of tools towards him. "I'm ready when you are."

"I'm good," Bobby assured him. "Do it."

If Tristan noticed how cold he was to the touch, he didn't say anything. Bobby supposed, living in New York, you learned not to ask questions about any weirdness you might see. Even though he was totally into the idea and didn't care about pain, Bobby still felt himself go tense at the touch of the first clamp. 

Warren's hand moved from his side to his belly, thumb sweeping over his skin. Weirdly, it helped. 

After that, things moved quickly and then he suddenly had two silver barbells in his chest. Warren's gaze went even hotter, his approval evident. Not that Bobby did it for him, but if they were going to bang, ideally for the rest of Bobby's life, he was glad Warren was into them. And he really liked it when Warren looked at him like he wanted to fuck him where he was sitting. That was an unexpected benefit. 

Bobby paid, leaving a generous tip, and then they headed back outside. They smiled at each other. 

"I'll see you around, okay?" Warren said suddenly, leaning in and kissing Bobby on the cheek again. 

"Thanks for coming today," Bobby replied, fighting hard against asking him to stay. 

"You couldn't have kept me away." Warren touched his hand to Bobby's waist. "That was so fucking hot, dude."

Bobby chuckled, breathing hard as he felt himself begin to break, but then Warren stepped away and whistled for a cab. A second later, and there was one there waiting at the curb. Warren gave him another _I'd fuck you right now if you'd let me_ look before ducking into the cab, waving as it pulled away.

Nipples and pride stinging, Bobby turned around and walked home.

* * *

Several days later, Bobby met Rictor at the place he'd suggested, ready to get his taco on. By then, his nipples had stopped burning and moved onto the only-hurts-when-touched phase. He'd spent a fair amount of time iced up while doing random shit like watching TV and cooking dinner. He had no idea how people without ice powers handled stuff like this. Ice cubes in dish towels? Sounded like work. 

"So," Rictor said once they were seated, margaritas sitting on the table. "How are things?"

"Same old, same old," Bobby replied, channelling his dad. "How's hubby?"

Rictor smiled with pure, honest pleasure, which was part of the reason Bobby rarely called Shatterstar by name when talking to Rictor. He'd learned pretty quickly that it was one of the easiest ways to de-grumpify Rictor. A more cynical person might've dismissed it as sentimental dribble, but not Bobby.

"He's fine," Rictor said, casually flipping through the menu. "It turns out Warren was serious about investing, so Star spends half his time now in meetings with his new best friend. They've got their eye on two more buildings in the area, not to mention the extra-dimensional scholarship fund and charity."

"Warren doesn't half-ass things," Bobby replied, "and he makes more money than he can give away." 

"It's a little annoying."

"I learned long ago to stop fighting him on it," Bobby said. 

Rictor snorted softly. "Yeah, no kidding. But hey, whatever, Star's happy, so I'm happy, but that means I'm managing our current place solo in the meantime. What a fucking money pit that thing is."

"Come on, you know you love it," Bobby said with a grin, and Rictor's smile deepened. He declined to answer, but Bobby knew he wouldn't have traded anything in the world for what he currently had. The server came up to the table then, and Rictor ordered an obscene number of tacos for both of them.

Bobby sat back, his drink one hand, scratching idly around his nipple with the other. 

Rictor raised an eyebrow, his smile twisting into a smirk. "In a little discomfort there, amigo?"

"Yeah, a bit," Bobby admitted. He lifted his shirt quickly, flashing Rictor. "I kind of did a thing."

"Wow, awesome," Rictor replied, offering his glass for a toast. Bobby clinked their drinks together. "So how about that other thing you're gonna force me to directly bring up? I assume from the amount of time Warren is spending with my husband that he isn't spending much time with you. Why is that?"

"Because he can't be a rebound. Because I can't do the same thing I always do and chase him away." Bobby stared down at his margarita, trying to escape the way Rictor was looking at him. "Because if it doesn't work out, I don't know how I'll put myself back together. Not after wanting him for so long."

"You'd be fine eventually," Rictor replied. "But why are you already thinking about the end?"

"I am fucking terrible at relationships. Every one I've ever been in has ended disastrously." 

"Isn't that how this all works? Every relationship ends until one of them doesn't?"

"We're just taking time," Bobby said quietly. "We both deserve to have him be more than a rebound."

Rictor continued to look at him, brows furrowed in consternation. Eventually, he sighed. "Hear me out for a second," he said, though it clearly wasn't a request. Rictor pushed on. "Have you considered that maybe the guy before was the rebound? I mean, all you did was swipe right on the first super-powered guy you saw and pretty much hope for the best. He never wanted to meet your friends or your family."

"What about everyone before that?"

"I think Judah broke your heart, and it took a long time for you to put it back together."

"I did honestly love him," Bobby whispered, eyes hot. "Even though it was fast, I loved him."

Rictor smiled sympathetically. Bobby really wished he would stop doing that. "I don't think anyone's gonna suggest you've spent your life pining away for a guy you never thought was gonna be yours. You clearly haven't. But you know who you want, and he's saying he wants you back, and the only thing stopping you is this idea that there's some perfect timeline you have to follow. Maybe he showed up exactly when you needed him to."

"So you're telling me I'm an idiot?"

"Pretty much. Listen, he knows exactly who you are, dude. Every weird thing about you, he's already seen it. He's not gonna let himself be a rebound and neither are you. Give yourself a little credit."

Bobby rubbed at his eyes, sniffing a bit. "I gotta stop drinking margaritas around you, man."

"Or maybe just stop dreaming about being Bobby Worthington and try making that reality."

"Drake-Worthington. Hyphenated," Bobby muttered, flushing at Rictor's uncomfortably fond smile. That hadn't exactly been his proudest night, crying on Rictor's shoulder about all his stupid Warren-related daydreams, up to and including what their matching monogrammed towels would look like. 

Before Rictor could reply, the tacos arrived. There was barely enough room on the table to fit them all. They helpfully rearranged things so the server could put them down. Once she left, they each grabbed a taco, bumping them together in another toast. That was basically Gay Night with Rictor in a nutshell.

"Here's to you getting your head out of your ass so you can make room for something better," Rictor said with the sort of impressively dry delivery Bobby had come to expect from Shatterstar. Bobby cracked up immediately, causing Rictor to break. People glanced over as they howled with laughter. 

The rest of Gay Taco Tuesday went off without a hitch, although Rictor refused to leave until Bobby texted Warren, especially after Rictor found out about Bobby's unfortunate sojourn into the alternate dimension and having managed to be a dumbass for longer than Rictor even thought was possible.

Stomach full of butterflies, Bobby typed out what he wanted to say. _I'm ready when you are._ He hit send.

Warren replied instantly. _See you tomorrow then._

Bobby fought the tiny wiggle of disappointment he felt – it was later than he thought it was, but not so late that Warren wasn't still up – but he guessed another day didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things, provided neither of them ended up being kidnapped by Sentinels or sucked into another world.

"All good?" Rictor asked politely. 

"All good," Bobby confirmed. With nothing in their hands to toast with, they fist-bumped instead.

* * *

Bobby woke up in a pretty good mood. He'd half expected to see Warren waiting outside when he left, but the street was clear. He had an afternoon class he had to prepare for anyway, and he knew Warren knew that, so he just grabbed a coffee and a breakfast sandwich at the nearest Starbucks then walked leisurely to the school. He assumed he'd see Warren for dinner later, ideally followed by some sex. 

And even if they didn't end up fucking, he'd just plain missed sleeping with him. Such a good snuggler.

But Bobby was pretty sure they were gonna bang. It was one of the few things he was sure about. 

When Warren still hadn't texted him with plans by lunchtime, he started getting annoyed. After he finished eating, he ducked into the bathroom and took a bunch of extremely flattering pictures of his cock: hard against his belly, held tight by his hand, and a downward shot that started with his pierced nipples and ended with his hard dick, jutting out from between his legs. That one was especially good. 

He had to ice up after that, deeply reluctantly to jerk off with so many telepaths around. 

Warren didn't respond to any of the pictures either. Bobby hoped he wasn't dead or something. 

He was a questionable teacher at the best of times, but he was absolutely useless on that particular afternoon. He longed for the days when you were allowed to wheel in a television on a wobbly stand and turn on educational made-for-TV movies about the dangers of drugs. That was where his head was at, so in lieu of bad film, he dragged the entire class outside to talk about personal finance instead.

As he geared up to speak about his final topic – the perils of compound interest – a car came speeding up the driveway. Not that notable, normally, except being located in the middle of Central Park meant they didn't tend to get many visitors. Pizza guys and uber drivers had a hell of a time finding them. 

And this car sounded expensive, confirmed by one of the kids breathing in sharply before saying, with a sense of awe and wonderment, "That's an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera. That thing's, like, over three hundred thousand bucks." Everyone else oohed and aahed, but Bobby just held his breath. 

It wasn't until the door opened and Warren stepped out that Bobby exhaled. 

He looked... good. Great, really, like he always did. And he was wearing that same _Miami Vice_ suit from the day they'd left for the cruise, his hair loose around his shoulders. He didn't come any closer, just stood next to his ridiculously expensive car with a hand wrapped around a giant bouquet of roses. 

It was over-the-top romantic, and Bobby realized with a growing smile that it was for him. 

"Yeah, class is over," Bobby said as they all continued to titter, trying to figure out why Warren was there. He stood up and brushed the grass off his pants, walking towards Warren with purpose, every curious gaze suddenly on him instead. Bobby raised an eyebrow as he approached. "Seriously, dude?"

"I love my grand entrances," Warren replied, and that was the only warning Bobby got before Warren swooped him into his arms and kissed him. Bobby dug his hands into Warren's linen suit, clinging to him, but Warren never made it feel like he was going to fall. Not that Bobby ever thought he would. 

This was a patented Warren Worthington move. Bobby had just never thought it'd be used on him. 

"I want to take you to dinner," Warren said, setting Bobby upright again but staying close, a hand on Bobby's waist. They had an audience now, but Bobby honestly couldn't give a fuck about them. He was entirely concerned with how Warren was looking at him, as if Bobby was the only person in the world.

"I might even put out if the dinner's nice enough."

Warren's eyes crinkled at the corners. "I know your secret," he said, leaning in, mouth beside Bobby's ear. "I think you'd put out anyway." Bobby wet his lips, bumps rising on his skin, and Warren's smile broadened. In a voice low and hot and rich as honey, he added, "Those pictures made me so hard." 

"Fuck," Bobby breathed. "I've never been so happy that none of those kids have eagle ears."

Warren laughed, all perfect teeth and shining eyes. "Do you want to get out of here then?" 

"Please," Bobby replied. He wasn't even surprised when Warren got the door for him. 

Bobby watched as Warren circled back to the driver's side. Behind him, the class had scattered to the wind, probably terrified some other teacher was going to force them back inside the school. In the end, he and Warren probably weren't that interesting, other than the fact Warren's car was fancy as fuck. 

Warren plopped down into the leather seat and turned on the engine. It purred like a kitten. 

"I need to say something," Bobby said suddenly. He glanced down at the roses on his lap. 

"Okay," Warren replied, the light briefly dimming in his eyes. 

It broke Bobby's heart to see Warren's smile falter, even a little bit. Bobby resolved right then to love Warren as much as he deserved to be loved, whatever happened. It strengthened his decision to blurt this out now, ahead of time, so Warren understood where Bobby was coming from and how he felt. 

"I know this is too early, but I have to say this, now, so you know what you're getting into. I love you. I've loved you from basically day one. I want to marry you someday. I want to have a house with you, and adopt some dogs with you, and live my life with you. I have no chill when it comes to you. None." 

Warren considered this for a moment before asking, "How many dogs?"

"I guess it depends on how big the house is," Bobby replied, "and where we go from here."

Warren looked at him, an expression on his face that Bobby had never seen before. He smiled suddenly. "Okay, we have a deal. I guess we better get started then," Warren said, taking Bobby's hand and squeezing it before he put the car into gear. The engine rumbled, loud and powerful, and off they went.

  
  
**The End**

**Author's Note:**

>  **Additional Warnings** :
> 
>  _Alcohol_ : this story contains heavy drinking. I cannot guarantee that all sexual contact occurs while the participants are 100% sober, but I can guarantee it's 100% consensual. At once point, someone drinks too much and is very sick the next day. There are multiple minor references to a desire to vomit, but no one actually throws up. 
> 
> _Canon Kissing Reference_ : Canonically, in X-Factor (2005), Shatterstar goes go through a period where he kisses (or attempts to kiss) people as he greets them, including, at one point, Bobby. There is a very brief exchange that references this. 
> 
> _Embedded Images_ : The second image (Chapter 6) contains male nudity, mostly from the waist up. The third (Chapter 7) contains explicit sex, including full frontal male nudity. The fourth (Chapter 8) contains implied sex with a visible naked buttock. 
> 
> **Author's Notes** :
> 
> Written between July 27, 2020 and August 26, 2020 for the 2020 Marvel Big Bang.
> 
> Inspirations for this story and series:  
> [Arcadia by Sineala](https://archiveofourown.org/works/548839) (Fic, The Professionals, Bodie/Doyle)  
> [Dreamboat](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6627466/) (Documentary, 2017)  
> [Like Father](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt7170950/) (Movie, 2018)
> 
> If you thought I was bad about writing X-Men go on vacations stories before, I can promise you I'm much worse now.
> 
> The cruise in this series in inspired by similar ones offered through Atlantis Events and The Cruise by LA DEMENCE. I definitely took a few liberties with timelines, details and when these cruises run. 
> 
> The theme nights and entertainment options were pulled from various sources, including _Dreamboat_ , various YouTube travel vlogs and reviews for existing cruises. 
> 
> The book Julio lent to Bobby, which Bobby thinks he should lend to Warren is: _Hello Sailor!: The hidden history of gay life at sea_ by Paul Baker and Jo Stanley (2003).
> 
> All of the pick up lines came, word for word, from various websites via Google. All of them are, much to Warren's consternation and mine, real. 
> 
> And finally, I can also be found on [Tumblr](https://atangeriner.tumblr.com/) and on Discord as Tangerine#1082.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Harbor- Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27368176) by [BlitheFool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlitheFool/pseuds/BlitheFool)




End file.
